“Troy and I established our relationship long distance. We live long distance a great deal of the time now.”
Victoria pushed away from the dresser, and turned away. “Life’s too short to waste time trying to make everyone else happy. I want to be happy. You’re the selfless one. And I’m not perfect like you, remember?”
Those words were so rich with emotion that Miranda found herself too shocked to speak. She sat there blinking stupidly with her head about to explode.
“Perfect. Oh, please.” She shoved the words out. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”
“Why don’t we just leave things for now, Miranda? I don’t want to make the situation worse. It’s not part of the plan.”
“What plan? The plan where you give Grandfather a heart attack so he drops dead on the floor?”
“The plan to get our families back together.” Victoria still didn’t turn around. “A big wedding will be a happy occasion to get our mothers together.”
“Let’s come up with another plan because this one is alienating the half of the family that still talks.” Forcing herself off the bed, Miranda went to stand beside her sister, to establish some sort of closeness, if only proximity. “I asked Grandfather point-blank why Grandmother changed her name, and do you know what he told me?”
Victoria finally looked at her, and Miranda recognized the glint of tears in her eyes. She wanted to say something, do something to wipe away that look. A look that told her Victoria was getting exactly the reaction she’d expected and was determined to deal with it.
But Miranda didn’t know what to do, so she said, “He told me we were researching the wrong woman.”
“And you believed him?”
She shook her head. At least she could give her sister that. “No. You showed me the marriage licenses, and I don’t question his signature. But I do question why this is important. You should have seen him, Victoria. He was so old. I don’t know why he’s lying, but I know he has a reason. He’d never lie otherwise. Not Grandfather.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. Do you want me to drop everything and give up any hope of getting all of us back together?”
Victoria made everything sound wildly out of balance with the happiness of one man. But it wasn’t just one man, Miranda reminded herself. It was safeguarding her mother from potential heartache, her father from public grief if their investigation breathed life into an old scandal on the eve of a campaign.
“Why are you asking me to decide? I’m not going to tell you whether or not you should get married.”
“Good, because I’m getting married. Whether I do it as part of the Naughty Nuptials or not is my choice. Just like whether you choose to attend is yours. Do you want me to call off the search?”
“Honestly, given all this trouble, I don’t see how knowing the truth can help.”
“You do realize that I didn’t expect to find a skeleton when I started looking, don’t you? Laura and I were trying to understand what happened, so we could figure out the best way to fix the problem without giving Grandfather a heart attack.”
“And I didn’t expect Grandfather to make a stand when I told him what we were doing. I expected a simple explanation. If there was anything to worry about, I figured he’d tell me how to perform damage control.”
“Damage control,” Victoria repeated, the words so void of emotion that Miranda knew instantly they’d been a mistake.
“What if our grandmother ran off with another man and was killed?” she said quickly, needing to explain, to wipe away that blank look from her sister’s face, a defense that revealed so much more than anger ever could. “Maybe Grandfather has been lying all these years to protect our mothers. Learning about an awful truth won’t do anything but hurt them.”
She didn’t question that her reasoning was rational. But rational didn’t take away the look on Victoria’s face, a look that swelled into one of those rare sister moments when implications reached far beyond the words, and feelings were hurt in ways that only happened between sisters—close or not.
A moment when Victoria understood that Miranda hadn’t believed her capable of conducting a search without an unpleasant fallout, that she’d judged her plan as nothing more than a way to stir up trouble, and hadn’t trusted her judgment at all.
A moment when Miranda felt like the worst sister on the planet.
You’re the big sister, Miranda. It’s your job to keep an eye on Victoria, to protect her if she needs protecting, her mother had said. More words. That’s what big sisters do.
Not this big sister.
This perfect sister had just convinced Victoria she was an irresponsible, devil-may-care rebel, who’d crossed enemy lines to collude with Laura to fix a decades-old problem she didn’t even understand.
“I won’t be responsible for ‘dividing the ranks’ or giving Grandfather a heart attack.” Victoria accepted the verdict with style and grace. “As of this second, the search is off. I’ll take care of Laura. I’ll sign a contract in blood or whatever will satisfy Grandfather. Are you happy now?”
Miranda should be. Her problem was solved. If Victoria stopped the search, their grandfather wouldn’t make a stand and she wouldn’t have to choose whether or not to attend the wedding.
She wouldn’t have to deal with any more ugly emotions.
But Miranda wasn’t happy. Perhaps it was Victoria’s expression, or the resignation in her tone…but this acquiescence didn’t feel anything like a victory.
Before Miranda could figure out how to react, Victoria demonstrated more grace-under-fire by assuming control.
“I’ll let sleeping dogs lie,” she said. “But I won’t sacrifice my happiness to satisfy this family’s expectations of acceptable behavior. Adam and I are getting married on Saturday along with Laura and Dale. We’re celebrating together and wrapping up the Naughty Nuptials. We’re going to give our mothers the opportunity to be together in a positive situation if they want to. I’d like my family with me and happy for me.”
She paused, drawing a deep breath and steeling herself before Miranda’s very eyes.
“Victoria, I—” She wanted nothing more in that moment than to say the right thing, to say anything to let Victoria know she did wish her happiness. “I don’t think—”
“Hear me out, Miranda,” she said. “I’ve put all of you in a tough position. I didn’t always understand that, but I do now, trust me. So while I do want you all with me, I might be asking too much given the circumstances. You do whatever feels right and that’ll be good enough for me. No hard feelings.” She gave a smile that looked both forced and sad. “But if you decide to come, I want you to be my matron of honor.”
Then, with her head high, she walked out the door, leaving Miranda standing there, absorbing the impact of her words, trying to sort through how she felt, how Victoria might feel.
She was still trying when Troy came in.
His expression assured her he’d overheard everything, and a part of her wanted to demand to know why he hadn’t shown up to support her, a part that needed someone to blame.
But Troy wasn’t at fault here. He’d done exactly what a supportive husband should have done—he’d respected that this had been between her and her sister.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His thoughtful tone proved he knew how rattled she was.
But what was there to talk about? How every decision she made lately seemed to be the wrong one?
Perfect, Victoria had called her, but she felt so far from perfect she could have cried. She wasn’t going to cry, damn it.
“Not now, thanks.”
Then she headed into the bathroom. She was going to take her shower now. Before her head exploded. Before she dissolved into a puddle of stupid tears that would only convince Troy that he’d married a basket case.
10
TROY HAD WONDERED how he could have been so blind to what was happening in his marriage, but now he had to question his intelligence at how long i
t had taken him to put two and two together. For the past twenty minutes, he’d sat at the dining room table, listening to a heated exchange carry through the open oasis doors, before finally understanding the problem.
He’d married into a family that didn’t have the first clue how to show they cared about each other.
Miranda’s family held such rigid ideas about acceptable and unacceptable behavior that they spent more time living up to those ideals than actually living. It was no wonder Miranda spent so much time and energy keeping up appearances.
Marriage isn’t just about love. It requires a great deal of work and commitment, her words came back to mind.
Their Web site overflowed with her upbeat reports about the routine tasks he left her to deal with.
He stayed in contact but had wrapped himself in work and left her to keep their lives running smoothly. She’d picked up every ball he had tossed her way and juggled it capably. That was Miranda—a woman used to demanding a lot from herself and usually accomplishing it.
But Troy knew life didn’t always run smoothly, and she must have hit some snags along the way. Yet he couldn’t remember ever hearing about any. Why? Because Miranda was a woman used to forging ahead with a smile on her face? What happened when she got in over her head?
Suddenly her slow withdrawal made sense. She was struggling with something—not acclimating to their new home, a problem, something—working harder and harder to deal with it, not sharing it with him because she knew she only had to keep up appearances until he shipped out again.
And she had every right to feel that way.
What had he ever done to encourage her to ask for help?
Sure, he asked her how things were going at home, but was asking enough for a strong, capable woman like Miranda? And if he’d really been interested in what was happening while he’d been away, would he have accepted her assurances at face value for so long?
Troy wasn’t impressed with his answer.
Now he was left to face that his actions weren’t enough, not nearly enough, and he didn’t see a quick fix. Correcting this problem meant changing his actions, expressing an interest while he was away, making himself more accessible until Miranda felt comfortable opening up to him.
All that would take time, which was the one thing he didn’t have right now. He’d pushed her into this investigation, so she was knee-deep in alligators with her family.
He had to help her solve this problem now.
Making his way across the room, Troy glanced inside the bedroom to make sure she was still in the shower. Pulling the door shut, he headed to the desk and dialed 1-9 on the house phone.
Laura answered with a pleasant greeting on the second ring and Troy found himself mildly surprised at how quickly he knew what he needed to do. “Have you spoken to Victoria yet?”
“She just left my office after telling me the search is off, the weddings are on, but the ushers will have to seat my guests on both sides of the room because she won’t have any.”
Troy laughed, encouraged that he could still find humor in this situation. “That about sums it up.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”
He recognized the resolve behind the question and knew that no matter what had happened to split his wife’s family from Laura’s, these women were all cut from the same strong mold.
“That’s what I called about, Laura. How committed are you to getting this family back together?”
“Very.”
He fixed his gaze on the closed bedroom door that embodied the distance separating him from Miranda and knew that he faced the fiercest battle ahead.
Clearing away all the obstacles between him and his wife.
“Good, then I’m going to need your help.”
MIRANDA STOOD in the shower, willing the jets to soothe away the remnants of her headache. She needed this hot water to pound her thoughts into some manner of calm.
She tried to understand what had led to her confrontation with Victoria, but the only thing she understood was that history was repeating itself.
All because of one man’s expectations for his family.
Victoria had accused their grandfather of selfishness, but in her heart she knew there was more, that the problem was bigger than any of them knew. Why else would her grandfather turn his back on his oldest daughter, give up his youngest granddaughter and split their family down the middle?
Why would this man who stood for truth, honesty and the American way lie to her face?
She’d walked into his study to live up to her familial responsibility, but she’d pushed her grandfather into taking action against Victoria instead.
Miranda arched backward beneath the spray, rinsing shampoo from her hair and wishing the water would cleanse away the image of her sister’s face in all its reconciled, hurt glory.
I’ve put you all in a tough position. I didn’t always understand that, but I do now, trust me, she’d said.
Yes, that was all true, but did Victoria really deserve to be cut out of the family, to plan a wedding believing that her nearest and dearest wouldn’t show up?
Despite the pulsing hot water, Miranda shivered. She hadn’t done a thing to ease her sister’s uncertainty, her hurt, and she couldn’t help but wonder if her mother had felt just as hurt when her big sister left the family home and didn’t look back.
Did she feel abandoned? Betrayed?
Did Victoria feel that way now?
You’re the perfect sister.
Perfect? That was such a joke Miranda might have laughed—except that there was nothing funny about this situation or the way she felt right now. Or the way Victoria must feel.
As if she wasn’t good enough.
After venturing away from her little pond, Miranda had discovered how it felt to not make the cut. She’d learned what it felt like to be excluded, the way Laura had once been excluded at school.
Yet even with these painful lessons under her belt, she’d carelessly fostered the same feeling with her sister.
Victoria was a rebel. She dated unsuitable men. Her idea to get the families back together was risky, crazy.
So many criticisms replayed in her memory. Yet had Miranda ever asked why her sister acted the way she did, why she felt the need to grab life by both hands?
Not once.
In her mind the family expectations had always been clear-cut and simple. She’d done her best to live up to them, and as Carolyn Ford’s daughter, she’d had a lot to live up to, knew the pressure firsthand.
How would it feel for Victoria to walk behind her?
You’re the perfect sister.
Far from it, but how would Victoria know that she struggled under that same pressure, too? How could she know when Miranda had never shared that part of herself?
Not even with her husband.
No, she’d hidden inside this shower when she’d really felt like crying on Troy’s shoulder. She’d wanted him to hold her, support her, love her. He wouldn’t have passed judgment or said the things she already knew in her heart.
She should have handled the situation differently.
She was a terrible sister.
He would never blame her for drowning in her troubles with the witchy wives. He wouldn’t care that all her grand plans to support his career by making nice on base had blown up in her face. He wouldn’t care about anything except that she felt isolated and alone and like a complete failure because she was so affected by these petty women and their nonsense.
And when she thought about that, Miranda remembered that Victoria wasn’t the first one to accuse her of perfection.
We can’t all endure our lot in life so gracefully, Miranda, a witchy wife had said to her once upon a time. Several others had nodded in agreement. I’m afraid we’re not perfect. We’re just normal women who miss our husbands and worry about them coming home safely.
Miranda remembered her shock at this woman’s words. How could she, how could any of them, think tha
t Miranda didn’t feel exactly the same way about Troy? But now that she thought about it…when had she ever actually expressed that she felt that way? Had she ever shared her feelings with these women?
No.
She’d sat at the luncheons and teas, chatting about everything under the sun but her feelings. She’d considered those private, had thought admitting she worried about Troy a sign of weakness.
She’d felt that way about the women, too. They’d chosen military life when they’d married their husbands and should buck up and deal with the unique demands. She’d interpreted their commiserating as complaining. Their openness about their worries and fears had made her uncomfortable. Why?
Because she was uncomfortable with her feelings?
Because she thought her worries meant she was weak? Troy was out defending their country while she was drowning in self-doubt because of a bunch of witchy women.
Because listening to other wives voice their worries about their husbands made her worry all the more about Troy?
Or all of the above?
These were questions that needed answers, questions that meant taking a hard look at herself. No, it wouldn’t be easy, but when she thought about it, nothing about the past year had been.
Except for loving Troy.
That had been as natural as breathing, the one constant. So hanging on to the thought, Miranda finally left the shower, ready to stop hiding.
She found Troy sitting on the edge of the fountain in the oasis, sipping his coffee and staring into the forest beyond the windows.
She recognized his look, knew he was deep in thought. His hair seemed to glow golden in the morning sun, and she paused in the open doorway to watch him, captured by the sight, by the familiar rush of emotions.
A calm smoothed away the raw edges of her mood and an excitement awoke inside her, a feeling that she stood poised on the brink of her whole life, that each breath would bring a new experience. She knew this feeling, a reaction unique to Troy, one she’d let worries distract her from for too long.
Their together time was precious, and they’d promised each other long ago not to waste a minute. She hadn’t been living up to her end of the deal, had been shielding herself behind her doubts. But no more.
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