I lift my head, my pleading eyes connecting with Ian’s. “What are we doing wrong, Ian? What am I doing wrong? I don’t know how to explain to her how cruel this world is.”
He kisses my forehead and guides my head to lie back on his chest. “There’s not a rule book for something like this. I think we’re doing the best we can. I can’t imagine what you saw tonight, but I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I hate to know you were alone.”
My strong, selfless Ian.
I think about Pippa’s comment about not wanting me. I try not to take it to heart. But I mentally beat myself up for not spending more time talking with her about her feelings or my sister. I just got so caught up trying to win her over and be her buddy, I forgot the real reason I’m here and was thrown into her life.
“Do you think she understands? Like, any of it?” I question.
“I honestly don’t know.”
I lift my head again to face him. “How are you so good with her? How do you know what to do or say?” Because throughout this whole messed up situation, he’s been so great. Like he’s the child whisperer or harboring a secret love child somewhere.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m doing any better than you are. But I guess it’s because I’ve been around since she was born. So I’ve spent the last four years watching her grow.”
That doesn’t help my internal battle about being a horrible, absent, no-good aunt, who might be making this all worse.
“Hey, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” He bends forward and presses his lips to mine. “I just meant that watching Amy and John with her, I guess you learn to pick up things here and there.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Am I royally screwing this situation up?” Because that’s honestly how I feel.
He grabs my face with both hands. “I think you’re doing great. I think that Pippa has a great influence in her life and your sister would be thankful that you’re here to fill her void.”
“I’m thinking more like a hot mess, taking everyone down in my path.”
Still holding my face, he comes closer so we are eye to eye. “Christina Anne Daniels, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Since the day I laid eyes on you, you’ve been nothing but perfect to me. And I bet you I’m not the only one who sees you that way. Stop overthinking this. Just continue to do what comes from your heart. Pippa is a smart kid. She would see right through your façade. I believe what she sees now is natural. Pure unconditional love from her aunt.”
My heart completely cracks open. Tears quickly fill my vision, escaping down my face.
“Now why are you crying?” He smiles at me.
“Because everything you say to me is beautiful. Everything you do. Everything. Just everything.” I don’t even know what more to say. “I love you, Ian.”
“And since I ever knew what love was, I’ve loved you.”
I say no more, because seriously what can I say to possibly top that line.
LAST NIGHT I MADE a vow. Mainly to myself because Ian passed out after I completely wore him out. I decided that I would spend more time focusing on family. Sounds hypocritical coming from my mouth, but it’s time I grow up and realize I have very important shoes to fill and my part is vital. As much as I want to scrape my brain for having these thoughts, it’s important for Pippa. I decided that we would go visit John’s grandparents. Keep them active in her life. We haven’t been back to the cemetery so that is also on my list. Talking more to Pippa will help her understand. Then hopefully help her heal. I don’t expect this to happen overnight. I’m prepared for this to take all her young life until she’s able to understand. But I’m going to do my best to try.
Pippa surprisingly slept in her room the whole night, presumably due to exhaustion. She woke up her spunky self and went about her morning marching to the beat of her own drum. Ian and I obviously stared at her like she was some sort of alien specimen. Not sure if four-year-olds ever come out and say, ‘So, about that scene yesterday,’ so we were at a loss about how to approach it.
Mum’s the word when Pippa offers to make her infamous breakfast. While we sit through frozen pancake hour, I watch as Ian fakes each bite, putting them in his pocket. Cheater. Between gags, I notice the answering machine has been taken off the wall. Thank God. I thought about taking that outdated electronic device outside and bashing it against the concrete until it resembled gravel. But then I remembered the tape inside. Amy’s voice was recorded on it and I bet Pippa would want that. Oh no, what if Ian has the same idea and—
“I took it out first,” Ian answers my mental freak-out.
“How did you know?” I ask, stunned.
“Because I could tell by watching your eyes.”
So perfect. So smug.
I mouth that I love him. Then I inform Pippa that Ian is still very, very hungry and would like more pancakes.
While cleaning up breakfast, we ask Pippa if she wants to go and visit her grandma and grandpa. She seems excited by the idea. I give Ian the honor of calling them ahead of time to let them know of our visit. When dressing for the occasion, I make sure to wear flats, in case I am pushed, and my hair in a bun, so there is less chance of my hair being pulled. You can never be too sure with these old crazies nowadays. That or I can only hope good ol’ Georgia Bishop has picked up her husband’s dementia.
Ian calls from the living room that my phone is ringing as I jump around, trying to squeeze my thighs into my skinny jeans.
“Just ignore it. I will be right there,” I yell back. I swear once I get life figured out, this household will have a better grip on nutrition.
That or I may have to put a size up in jeans on my shopping list.
Finally over my hump, I hurry around the room collecting all the fixings to make me look fabulous. I haven’t been sporting too many accessories, but for some reason, I feel the need to impress the wicked grandmother of the west.
Grabbing a scarf, I hurry out so we’re not late, and I ram straight into Ian.
Hmph!
“Geez, babe you make a better door than a window.” I smile playfully at him. His face is void of any humor.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He holds up my phone. “I answered your phone. It said the name of a lawyer’s office so I assumed it was regarding Pippa and you would want to take it.”
Uh oh.
“It’s actually Rebecca from your lawyer’s office in San Francisco. Needs to speak with you to confirm Pippa’s registration.” Oh, fuck. “She says she was able to get an extension on your condo lease.”
Double fuuu . . .
“Ian—”
He jams the phone at me. I hear Rebecca’s annoying voice through the phone. Keeping eye contact with Ian’s very, very angry ones, I place the phone to my ear. “Hi, Rebecca—”
“Ms. Daniels. It’s about time I finally reach you. It is not easy trying to hold off school registration. Do you understand that if you do not sign these forms, your child will not be able to register for this semester of schooling?”
“Um—I know—I, um, now is not a good time for me.” I just want to spit out to cancel my order and hang up. But that’s not professional. Ian begins shaking his head, and turns to exit the room.
“Ian, wait!” I grab his shoulder, ending the call without thought.
“Just wait. Hear me out.”
“What’s there to hear?”
“What you heard. I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can. You seem to be really good at keeping secrets though, Chris. Even better at trying to get out of them.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I reply defensively.
“It means you always have something up your sleeve. You and your secrets.”
“Excuse me? Are you accusing me of something?”
Pippa storms through the door screaming at the top of her lungs. “Let’s go! Let’s go! They have fishies there! I want to see the fishies!”
Ian gives me a
look that says we are done with this conversation, while I stare him down letting him know we are so not done.
Ian bends down to Pippa’s level. “All right, princess, let’s go see the fishies.” She jumps into his arms and he stands, guiding her out of the room and toward the front door. My phone begins to buzz again. Rebecca’s calling me back. I give her the end button, along with a few choice curse words for completely messing up my day, and head out the door.
I KNOW IAN IS mad. He is trying to act happy for Pippa, but I can see through his façade. He’s mad. Which makes me feel horrible. I should have mentioned my original plan. That or just stopped for one simple second and dialed my damn lawyer’s office to cancel my plans. Every time I glance at Ian, a new time pops into my head of when I could have called or emailed. By the time I got to sending a simple email during any of my morning poops, I knew this was entirely my fault. The moral of the story seems to be that I had plenty of opportunity to call. And I didn’t. In the back of my mind, I doubted all these fast decisions, and if I called, it would make it all real. Taking another look at Ian, his jaw tight, I place my hand on his thigh. He tenses instantly. He stares down at my hand then at me.
And yikes. Those are some intense eyes.
I give him my best puppy dog look and mouth that I love him. It’s a total cop out but he won’t reject it. I watch his eyes lose some of the crinkle. He tries to fight the anger, but his soft side overrides and he mouths I love you, too. He places his hand over mine and squeezes.
A few minutes of driving in silence pass, and he turns back to me. “We still need to finish that talk.”
“I know, and I promise it will have a happy ending.”
With my BRE (best reply ever) saving the day, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, placing the sweetest kiss Sunday has ever seen on my skin.
Ian, having been to the retirement home before, smoothly checks us in and guides us toward the recreation room. Once down the hall, we spot Georgia and Richard Bishop waiting for our arrival.
“Oh, great, she’s got that look on her face again.” I begin to slow.
“Come on. She’s not that bad.”
“Ian, look at her eyeing me. She looks like she’s ready to cage fight me.”
Laughing through his smile, he feels my bicep. “She’s an old lady. I think you can probably handle her.”
“Yeah right, look, she’s already swinging her cane.” I come to a halt. No way.
“Chrissy,” Ian playfully cautions me, and presses his palm to my lower back, forcing me to continue moving.
“Oh, fishy! Fishy!” Pippa beams and takes off down the opposite hallway.
“Wait, Pippa! Where you going? How come she gets to leave?” I turn to Ian with my pleading eyes to let me go look at the fishies.
“You’ll be fine. Quick visit. In and out. And if you’re good, I’ll take you for steak and ice cream.”
“Steak and ice cream?” I say. He’s definitely got my attention.
“We’ll have steak for lunch and save the ice cream for nap time.”
Holy smokes, Batman.
Deal.
“The cane whack will be worth it then. Let’s do this.” He grins at me, placing a quick kiss to my lips as we approach the elderly.
I think the saying that fits best here is you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Getting Mrs. Bishop to ditch her grudge against me is obviously impossible. The closer we get the bigger her scowl. I’m not sure why she doesn’t like me. I would say that I am a damn likable person. As I walk into the cage, I smile and prepare.
“Hi, Mrs. Bishop, how are you today?” I ask, trying to stay clear of her fangs or killer cane. She doesn’t acknowledge me of course, and heads toward Ian.
My feelings aren’t crushed, trust me, but unfortunately, this leaves me open for her senile husband to grab for me. “I’ve been looking for you, sweetheart. Let’s hurry, Grace. We can fit in a quickie before practice.” Mr. Bishop grabs my forearm to drag me to God knows where.
“Whoa, hold on, Mr. Bishop. I’m not Grace, my name is Chrissy. I’m Amy’s sister.”
“Stop it, Grace. Georgia won’t know. Hurry.”
Holy busted! Seems like poor ol’ Mr. Bishop wasn’t so faithful to his ice queen back in the day. He grabs and tugs at me again; this time I lose my balance.
Ian throws his arm out and catches me before I biff it.
“Hey, she’s mine!” Mr. Bishop barks at Ian.
“Richard, knock it off! Go play a round of rummy with your friends.” Georgia swats her infamous cane at her victim and he blanches.
“Wretched woman,” he grumbles under his breath while rubbing his shoulder, and he departs down the hallway.
“Ian, my dear. Thank you for coming to see us and bringing Pippa.” She turns her attention to Pippa who is playing by the fish tank down the hall. “Pippa, come to Grandma,” she nearly screams out. I assume Pippa is used to the barking because she follows direction easily and goes in for a hug. Georgia pulls her away, inspecting her from head to toe. “You look well, dear. Are you being fed?”
“I sure am, Gramma! Kissy makes me pampakes and cookies every day!” Pippa beams.
Ehhh . . . Georgia? Not so much.
She turns to Ian. “What, does she not know how to feed a decent meal to a child? If she wasn’t the root of all our pain, maybe Pippa’s mother and father would be here to feed her properly.”
“Georgia, come on now,” Ian soothes.
Yeah, Georgia! Holy left field. “Excuse me, Mrs. Bishop, but I think Pippa is doing quite well given the circumstances. There’s no need to point fingers.” I feel it necessary to stand up for myself. I obviously have to deal with this woman till she kicks it and I’m not about to let her just walk all over me.
“You’re poison, you know that? The death of us all,” she snarls and I flinch. “You should just go back home and leave us all be!”
Okay, breathe, in and out. It is not okay to punch an old lady. In, out. In, out.
“Listen, Georgia, I understand you’re hurting and I’m truly sorry for your loss, but I’m not sure what I ever did to you. I feel like for Pippa’s sake, we should try and get along.”
Nope. Not having it.
“You don’t know what you’ve done to me? You took away my only grandson! You’re the reason we’re all hurting.”
She turns to Ian. “How can you even stand to look at her? I hope you’re not sharing a bed with this murderer.”
“Excuse me?” I jump in, taken aback.
“Georgia,” Ian warns her.
“Don’t act like you’re so innocent. This all is your fault!” she yells. At that, I just lose it.
“Listen, lady! I lost a sister, too. So you need to relax. This isn’t easy for me either. You need to stop blaming me.”
“Murderer!” she starts screaming over and over. “Murderer!”
Jesus almighty, this lady is insane. “I’m sorry but how am I the murderer here?”
Ian tries to intervene by pulling me away from her. “Chris, let’s just go. She isn’t well. Now doesn’t seem like it’s a good time.”
“No, Ian, wait. She’s obviously upset at me for something, and I want to know why.”
“Chris, please, let’s just leave her—” he attempts to finish.
But good ol’ Georgia Bishop finishes for him.
“Oh, you don’t know do you, dearie. You murderer!” Again with that word!
“Now, listen here. You call me that one more time, and I swear I’m going to shove those words along with that cane where the sun don’t shine.” Not my prized moment, threatening the elderly, but holy cow she has a fire lit so hot under my ass.
“This is all your fault, you murderer.”
That’s it. I go after her, but Ian grabs my shoulders, holding me back. “And how is it my fault?” I bite back. “I would seriously like to know.” I’m done being Mr. Nice Guy. Old or not. Ian, on the other hand, is trying to pull me away from her, which is annoy
ing me, because I have some beef with this lady.
“You selfish child. Abandoning your family. Only to drag them to that awful city just for them to make nice with someone who doesn’t care about them. Just to send them to die.”
Her words halt me.
“Excuse me?”
“If it weren’t for you, they would have never been on that highway that day!” She scowls at me.
The fight in me quickly dies. “I’m sorry, what?” I say, confused.
“Chrissy, let’s just go.” Ian is now forcibly trying to pull me away.
I nudge my shoulder from his hauling grip.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Why would their trip be my fault?” My words falter. I’m so lost.
“Because they were traveling to see you. That’s why. All this talk about seeing her amazing sister and her amazing art show. They would have never been on that road if you weren’t such a selfish little brat, turning your back on your family. But you are. And my poor grandson and his wife were on that road that day headed to California to see your show. Some bull crap I was fed about how your sister wanted to make amends. And now look. They’re gone. And you’re still here. God works in the wrong ways, if you ask me.”
I want to speak. I want to scream actually, but my vocal cords are frozen.
She’s lying, I scream to myself in my head. I look at Ian to confirm that this lady is old and crazy. I look at him and the expression he shows is remorse. His eyes tell me a story that I do not want to see.
“No . . .” I shake my head at him.
“Chris.” He grabs for me.
“Don’t touch me.” I fight him off.
This is not happening. This is not happening.
“That’s not true. That’s a lie,” I whisper, because this has to be a dream. “You’re lying to me.” I turn, accusing Georgia. The horrible sounds of reality break through when she confirms my worst fears.
“It should have been you. They didn’t deserve this. It should have been you.”
My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) Page 21
