“I should hope so.” She sipped her wine.
The next present was a gift certificate for lessons. Keira ran over to her grandfather. “This is exactly what I was hoping for.”
What? Keira wanted to learn to play the guitar? Why didn’t he know that? She never talked about it. Or had she and had he not listened?
The present reveal continued. Lizzy—no doubt with help from Callie or Carmen—had given Keira a subscription to Teen Vogue, with a request for cuddling while Keira read the magazine. Carmen’s gifts included some weird kind of floppy curler that one could sleep in, along with a stack of books and certificates to teach Keira how to make tamales, spaghetti sauce from scratch and pie crust. She reached for his presents next.
She studied the box then looked at him. “Textbooks?” she asked, shaking a large box. “Nope. Not heavy enough.”
She ripped the paper and stared at the picture of the girly, pink sleeping bag. He’d been inspired by her new friendships and had figured sleepovers were just around the corner. He’d gone online to find the pinkest sleeping bag he could find. But as Keira stared at the box, her face fell.
She turned to him. “How could you?” Her voice shook and tears spilled down her cheeks. She jumped to her feet. “So when you throw me out, I’ll have a place to sleep?”
The accusation was so unexpected and stunning, he couldn’t think of how to respond. “What? No. Keira, it’s for sleepovers.” He fought embarrassment and shame, although he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I got you games and slumber party Mad Libs, as well. For your friends.”
Callie leaned over and squeezed his arm. “Keira, honey, you need to calm down.”
She was crying harder now, barely able to catch her breath. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. None of you do. I hate you all. I hate you!”
The last words were a scream. The tears turned into sobs as she ran out of the room. When she was gone, no one said anything for a long time.
Carmen sighed. “She’s overtired, Malcolm. She doesn’t mean it.”
He was less sure. “I bought her games,” he repeated.
His grandfather looked at him. “She knows. She’ll pull herself together and be fine. You’ll see.”
“I’ll go after her,” Callie said as she stood. “I think we need to just hug it out.”
Malcolm excused himself as well, but instead of following Callie, he went into his study and closed the door. He felt sick and confused. He had no idea what had gone wrong or how to fix it. He reached for his phone to call Delaney only to remember she wasn’t feeling well.
“Hell in a handbasket,” he muttered to himself. “Hell in a handbasket.”
* * *
About nine that night Callie stepped into the hallway and drew in a breath. The meltdown was over and Keira was asleep, Lizzy curled up next to her. Callie felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head, but she still had one more thing to do.
Carmen had checked in earlier to get an update, and Callie had asked her to tell Grandfather Alberto Keira was feeling better, which left only Malcolm.
She walked the few steps to his half-open door, knocked once and then entered. Malcolm was at his computer. He looked up at her and motioned to a chair.
“Someone is stealing at work,” he said. “It’s been going on for a few months now. Santiago and I can’t figure out how they’re doing it.”
Stealing? “What department?”
“Dry soup and drink mixes.”
“I’m there now.” She didn’t mean to sound defensive, but that was how it came out anyway.
“It started happening long before you got here, Callie, and even if it hadn’t, I still wouldn’t think it was you.”
“Thanks.”
She sat down across from him and leaned back against the chair. “I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll bet. How is she?”
“Sleeping.” She straightened and looked at him. “She feels awful.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“No. Hurt. Baffled. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“Nothing. You did nothing wrong, Malcolm. It was all too much for her. Her first party, then the big family dinner. All the presents, us, she was overwhelmed. She’s still a kid and she doesn’t have a lot of coping skills. She held it together for as long as she could and then things kind of exploded.”
“At me.” He pressed his lips together. “Sorry. I realize she’s the one we’re talking about.”
“But you got the brunt of it, I know. It’s hard. On the bright side, she thinks it’s safe to yell at you, so that’s progress.”
He raised his eyebrows. “How is that progress?”
She smiled. “Keira trusts you enough to be mad at you. She made you the focus of her meltdown.”
“Or it could mean I’m the one who matters the least.”
“You need to look on the bright side.”
“You do it for me.”
She felt bad for him. She knew things had been rocky with Keira, but Malcolm was trying.
“She’s going to apologize to you in the morning,” she told him, then paused. “There are going to be ups and downs. She’s had a tough time.”
“I know that. I just wish I knew she was adjusting. I want her to be happy. I want her to feel safe. This is her home and we’re her family.”
“It would really help if you told her that when you see her.”
“I will. Thanks for taking care of her.”
“It’s easy. She’s my sister.”
And Malcolm was her brother. Why was connecting with Keira so natural, and bonding with him was more challenging? She thought maybe age had something to do with it. Keira was a kid and Malcolm was a grown man who could be intimidating.
His gaze sharpened. “How are you adjusting?”
She smiled. “I’m doing okay and I promise not to cry if you give me a present on my birthday.”
“Even if it’s a sleeping bag?”
“Malcolm, no. It was a really thoughtful gift.”
“Apparently not.” He drew in a breath. “Are you happy at work?”
“I am. The people are great.” She wrinkled her nose. “There is a huge difference between the basket department and where I am now. There everything was computerized. The dry goods area is so primitive.”
“A remodel is coming. We’ll be able to mechanize much of the work and keep tighter controls on the inventory.” He tapped his laptop. “It will be harder for people to steal, which might be why the thefts have increased. They’re doing their best while they still can.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get into that. We were talking about you. Have you thought any more about college?”
She laughed. “We talked two days ago. It takes me longer than that to do my research.” She paused as she wrestled with the truth. “I’m going to download an application. I do want to get a degree. I have an opportunity here and I want to take advantage of that.”
What she really meant was according to the lawyer, a third of the company was hers. One day she would like to be higher up the food chain. Malcolm would always run the firm—he’d been a part of things for years—but she would like to be involved. She wanted to be confident and educated and successful.
“Let me know how I can help.”
“Thank you. I will.” She started to stand, then flopped back in the chair. “Okay, I have a question.”
Malcolm waited.
She shifted her weight. “There’s some gala charity thing,” she said in a rush. “Santiago invited me and I said yes, only I don’t know anything about it and I looked online and it’s really fancy and kind of scares me so maybe I should tell him I’ve changed my mind.”
He
made a couple of clucking noises.
“Not fair!” she protested. “Come on. I’m not like you. I didn’t grow up in this house. I’m just some kid from—”
“A perfectly normal upbringing,” he said. “Your mom was great, you’ve told me so yourself. There’s no reason you can’t fit in and have a great time.”
She thought about the pictures she’d seen online. “Do you know what those women are wearing?” she demanded. “Fancy dresses and stuff. There’s dancing. Like real dancing.”
His mouth twitched. “And you don’t know how?”
She felt herself getting angry and even though she knew it was a self-protective mechanism, she still wanted to yell at him. Instead she forced herself to speak calmly. “It wasn’t a required class in prison, so no. I don’t know how to dance.”
“I appreciate your restraint.”
“What are you talking about?”
He winked. “I was sure you were going to throw something at me.”
“I wanted to.” She slumped in her seat. “I’d like to go and I’m scared. There. I said it.”
“It’s just a fancy dinner with a bunch of people who care about a cause.”
“Rich people.”
“They still pee every single day. Sometimes more than once.” He leaned toward her. “Santiago will take care of you.”
He was right about that, she thought. Santiago would be there for her. “There’s still the dancing. Can I take lessons or something?”
“I’m sure you can, but you don’t need to. Santiago does a very basic box step. I’ve seen him.”
“For a second I thought you were going to say you’ve danced with him.”
He ignored that and stood, then walked over and held out his hand. She stared at him in confusion, then shook her head. “No. No, no, no. You are not teaching me to dance.”
He pulled her to her feet. “You are all attitude with absolutely no backbone. It’s not hard. This will take ten minutes. We’ll practice a couple of times and you’ll be fine.”
He led her out into the hallway. “Basic box step,” he repeated. “Whoever invented dancing hated women so I step forward and you step back.” He thought for a second. “There are maybe six steps.”
He moved next to her. “Watch my feet. I’m doing the man part, so you’ll be going in reverse.”
“In high heels,” she muttered. “Okay, show me.”
He walked through the steps a couple of times. She watched intently, then stepped in front of him.
“On four,” he said, before counting. He took a step forward, she moved back, concentrating on what they were doing.
“My right, your left.” His voice was steady.
Callie felt stiff and awkward and she stepped on his foot twice but the third time through it was easier. By the fifth, she was ready for music.
He found a song on his phone and set it on a nearby windowsill, then they began to dance in the wide hallway.
“See,” he said after a few minutes. “Not so hard.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ll do great. And if something bad happens, give me the high sign and I’ll spill my drink as a distraction.”
She wanted to say something snarky back to him, or maybe just thank him, but she couldn’t talk. At least not without bursting into tears, and no one wanted that. Malcolm had endured enough trauma for one day.
She gave him her best smile, willed herself to be strong. “I appreciate the lesson.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll practice again in a couple of days.”
She nodded and retreated to her room. Once there, she sat on the edge of her bed. From all she’d heard, her biological father had been a thoughtless jerk who used and abandoned women. Callie should hate him. Only she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have Malcolm as her brother and she was starting to think having him around was worth a whole lot.
* * *
Delaney tried to act normal as she sat through Sunday brunch with her dad and Beryl, but it was difficult. She was still tired and conflicted and upset and confused and a host of other emotions she couldn’t begin to name. Her fight with Chelsea—because she didn’t know what else to call it—haunted her. Sometimes she blamed her friend entirely and sometimes she admitted she was just as responsible.
“Delaney, are you all right?” Beryl asked as they washed dishes. “You’ve been quiet all day.”
Delaney glanced toward the family room where her father was watching a baseball game.
“I’m tired and maybe a little out of sorts.”
“Is college too difficult? You’ve already done it once, I’m not sure why you have to go back.” Beryl smiled at her. “I do admire your drive, however. A doctor. That’s a long road.”
“I don’t know if I want to do that anymore,” Delaney admitted, rinsing plates before putting them in the dishwasher. “I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. You’re right—it’s a very long commitment and if I’m not sure...”
She pressed her lips together. “I just don’t know what to do. Chelsea said—” She stopped herself. She couldn’t be completely honest about that!
“I’m so glad you two are spending time together again,” Beryl told her warmly. “You used to be good friends. I’d worried you’d had a falling-out.”
“We didn’t. Not exactly. It’s just our lives are so different. She’s married with kids and I’m, well, I’m on another path.”
“If only Tim hadn’t died.” Beryl’s voice thickened. “Of course that would have changed everything. I miss him so much. I know you do, as well.”
“Of course.”
Her answer was automatic but was it true? Tim had been a huge part of her life. For years she’d been half of a couple and everyone had assumed they would always be together. Even her, at least at first.
Chelsea’s stinging words echoed. Had everyone really known she hadn’t been in love with him anymore? Had he? She didn’t want to think that, didn’t want him to have guessed she wasn’t sure.
“I would have had grandchildren by now,” Beryl mused. “I always wanted grandchildren.”
Delaney felt her control slipping. “I sometimes think no one wants me to move on,” she blurted. “We always talk about Tim.”
“Why wouldn’t we? He was important to both of us. Delaney, honey, I don’t understand.”
She knew she had to be careful. Beryl was one of the sweetest people Delaney knew, and she was engaged to Phil. This was one relationship Delaney couldn’t walk away from. She was going to have to—
The truth smacked her upside the head, leaving her dazed. No, she told herself, even as she wondered. She didn’t walk away from relationships. She didn’t! She had a lot of friends and she’d been with Tim forever and there were others.
Only there weren’t. She hadn’t bothered to stay in touch with her work friends after the shooting. They’d reached out over and over again, wanting to help and be with her as she dealt with the aftermath of the awful nightmare. Even when she’d gone back to work, she hadn’t been the same. She’d pushed them so far away, they’d stopped trying to get closer.
She’d done the same with Chelsea, avoiding her, not returning her calls until they weren’t really friends anymore. When she looked back on her life, she saw a pattern of leaving people behind, just as she’d been left all those years ago when the pretend moms had gone back to their homes, leaving her behind.
“Delaney, honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She felt the heavy brunch sitting uneasily in her stomach. “I suddenly don’t feel well. I need to go.”
“Of course. You head home. I’ll tell your dad.” Beryl hugged her. “If there’s anything I can do, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch when I feel better.”
Delaney hurried out of the ho
use and to her car. She felt trapped and exposed and had a desperate need to go to ground. She drove to her condo as quickly as she could, parked, then raced into her apartment and locked the door behind her. Then she sank onto the floor and pulled her knees to her chest.
What was wrong with her? Why was she feeling all these uncomfortable emotions? She didn’t want to think she was a bad person, but she couldn’t seem to escape that uncomfortable truth. No, not bad, she thought. Shallow. Uncaring. She wasn’t evil, but apparently she tossed the people in her life aside whenever things got tough. Just the way she’d tossed her career aside.
Delaney leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. Had she done that? Thrown away her career? She’d wanted to do something different. Had needed to make a change. But why? She allowed her mind to slip back to that horrible time. Her father was finally coming home from months in the hospital and rehab, she was exhausted and could barely function. Tim had been gone almost three months and she was still trying to accept the fact that she would never see him again.
She remembered feeling so much sadness over what had happened and relief that she still had her dad. Everyone on their street had been so supportive, which she’d appreciated, but she’d also felt...trapped.
Trapped by their kindness and expectations. Trapped by how everyone always talked about Tim. She’d needed to escape, only there’d been nowhere to go.
What was it Chelsea had said? That Delaney had wanted different dreams. That was true. She’d always wanted to escape the small world that was their neighborhood. She’d wanted to be successful and have an exciting career and she’d been willing to do the work to get it.
Chelsea hadn’t understood, nor had Tim. He fought her every step of the way. Because of her, they’d delayed getting married and he’d resented that while she’d felt guilty.
She knew that somehow those elements of her past were all tied up together. Her friends from childhood, her decision to have a career, being good at her job, disappointing Tim and finally her fear that she really didn’t love him anymore.
Chelsea had screamed that at her, Delaney thought, wincing. Had she been right? Did everyone know? Had Tim known?
She hoped not. She didn’t want him to have thought that she didn’t love him. Only she wasn’t sure she still had. They’d become different people and the truth was, if he wasn’t making her happy, she doubted he was very excited about being with her.
When We Found Home Page 29
