by Mary Carter
“She talks a lot,” Brittany said. “A lot a lot.” Josh just stared at her as if trying to tell her something telepathically. Hope loved her older sister, but it wasn’t easy always being bossed around by her, and Brittany and Josh had to feel the same at times. She wanted to scoop them up and tell them everything would be fine. But they were too big for that. She wished someone would scoop her up and tell her everything would be fine. Joy and Harrison disappeared in the house with Yvette and the bags. Hope’s shoes had disappeared as well.
“She seems cranky,” Brittany said. “I miss Carla.”
Hope rolled her eyes. Brittany ought to be calling her Grandma, not Carla. How did she end up with such a wacky family?
“We’ll feel right at home,” Josh said. He dug at the dirt with his shoe.
“Look at all this land,” Hope said. “You guys must be so excited.” More stares.
“What are we?” Josh said. “Farmers?”
“Can we skate on the pond?” Brittany said.
“We sure can,” Hope said.
“Can we do it now?” Brittany asked.
“We should probably visit awhile,” Hope said. “But soon.”
“Do you think it’s going to snow?” Brittany said.
“We’ll wish for it,” Hope said with a wink.
“Wishes,” Josh said. He glanced at Faith, who was still on the phone. Hope wanted to open that car door again and pull her sister out by her hair. Instead she threw an arm around her niece and nephew. “I’m not cranky,” Hope said. “And I’m so happy the two of you are here.” With one arm around Brittany’s shoulders and the other around Josh’s waist, she maneuvered them toward the porch, and they clomped up the stairs and opened the door. They entered into a tiny mudroom where Brittany and Hope started to take off their boots and shoes.
“Do we have to?” Josh asked.
“He has stinky feet,” Brittany said, looking at Hope with wide eyes.
Hope laughed. “He’ll fit right in,” Hope said. “Looks like everyone else has taken theirs off.”
Josh groaned. Hope stifled another laugh. And here she thought it was only teenage girls who could be dramatic. Poor kid. Hope remembered the pain of being a teenager. It was obviously just as intense for boys. “It’s a log cabin,” Josh said. “Wood floors. How could my shoes possibly do any damage?”
“He’s been difficult lately,” Brittany said, suddenly sounding like she was twenty years older.
“Shut up.” Josh poked Brittany. She poked him back. Hope quickly stepped into the main house, wanting to avoid the progression to shoving. She was going to have to find out where the nearest liquor store was.
Hope couldn’t believe how expansive the house was inside. It felt a little bit like a ski lodge or a mountain retreat. She couldn’t help but think that it had to be worth a fortune. Who was Yvette leaving the property to? Hope honestly didn’t think it was going to be left to them, nor did she feel any claim to it. What she really wanted to know was—where was their father? If he wasn’t here, could Yvette tell them where to find him? She was going to have to ask Yvette at the first opportunity.
The main room stretched out like a giant loft with a wraparound balcony on the second level where you could stand and look below. The kitchen was in the middle of the floor with a vast marble island giving the kitchen a sense of separation from the living room. A stone fireplace would have been the focus of the living room had it not been for a never-ending series of windows bringing the outdoors in. You could take in all of the side yard, as well as a portion of the barn and pond in the back. It was a wonderful blend of indoors/outdoors. Paradise was the only word that came to mind.
Joy and Harrison were already propped up on stools along the kitchen island as if they were a pair of skiers on their honeymoon ducking into the bar. Yvette stood behind the island just staring at them. Hope urged Brittany and Josh to follow her as she made her way up to Yvette.
“I’d like you to meet Brittany and Josh,” she said. “Faith’s children. Your great-grandchildren.”
“Nice to meet you,” Brittany said. She gave a little bow as if she wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was. Seeing what a sweet girl Brittany was made Hope long to have a child of her own.
Yvette stepped forward and brought her great-grandchildren into a group hug. “Aren’t you two precious,” she said, releasing them and stepping back. “Would you like some milk?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” Josh said.
“Nonsense,” Yvette said. “It’s fresh milk.”
“Do you have any juice?” Josh said.
“You have some in the van,” Brittany said.
“I’d love some of that fresh white milk,” Harrison said, nudging Joy.
Joy laughed. “Not me. Do you have any chocolate milk?”
Yvette eyed the pair. “In my day,” she said, “we only drank one kind of milk.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Joy asked.
“Now you’ve got soy milk, almond milk, goat milk.” Yvette shook her head like it was a travesty.
Joy whirled around in her stool. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Granny.”
Harrison nudged her. “I think she’s just talking about milk.”
“Don’t be so naïve,” Joy said.
Yvette began taking things out of the refrigerator one by one. “I’ll show you everything I’ve got,” she said. “It’s not much, but it’s yours.”
“We can make a list and go to the store later,” Hope said.
“Why do you need to go to the store?” Yvette barked. “Look at all I have. I’m not even done yet.”
Hope was just trying to be helpful. Being loving and kind wasn’t going to be easy with this group. She already felt like picking up items and throwing them at the windows to see if she could shatter one or two. But was she going to do it? Of course not. Why couldn’t everyone else be like her and keep their rage bottled inside?
“I’m here, I’m here,” Faith called out, stumbling into the room and dropping her Coach purse as if it weighed a hundred pounds. Then she stood surveying the room, hands on hips. She was so tall and thin. Her brown hair was longer than Hope had ever seen it, wavy and free, hanging down past her breasts. Faith was definitely getting better with age. Hope watched as her older sister made a beeline for Yvette and threw her arms around her. Why hadn’t Hope felt free to do that? Where did that kind of confidence come from?
“I remember you,” Faith said, stepping forward and staring at Yvette. She thrust her chin up. “Do you remember us?”
Yvette nodded. “Joy was the screamer, Hope was the chubby one, and you were a bossy little thing.”
Chubby? Did Yvette just call me chubby?
“Faith is still the bossy one,” Joy said.
“And you’re still a screamer,” Harrison said, nudging Joy.
“I’m not chubby,” Hope said.
Yvette’s eyes flicked over Hope. “So I see.” She said it like it was a bad thing.
“Why are you taking everything out of your refrigerator?” Faith said, stepping up and eyeing the items lined up on the counter.
“This is what I have. I’m giving you everything I have.”
“Where’s our father?” Joy asked. “Do you have him?” Hope gasped. A heavy silence fell. Hope felt a slippery sort of panic enter her body. She had wanted to control this herself, ease into it. It was like being in an airplane when unexpected turbulence bounced you around. What’s done was done. They stared at Yvette, awaiting an answer.
Yvette picked up a gallon of juice and slammed it down. “My house, my rules.”
Faith squared her shoulders. “We all want to know.” Hope’s heart hammered in her chest. She was ready for the question. She wasn’t so sure she was ready for the answers. But the saying was true. You couldn’t un-ring a bell. Hope imagined sleigh bells ringing. She missed her father like no time had passed at all since he’d thrown her up in the air and caught her on the way down. You
’re my girls, he always said to them with a look of fierce pride in his eyes. You’re my girls.
“Your father is no longer with us,” Yvette said. The words felt like stones being aimed directly at Hope’s heart.
“What does that mean?” Hope heard herself ask. Yvette turned her back and began putting the items back in the fridge. Hope took a step forward. “You mean, he’s not here?” Hope said. “Like he’s in another state?” She heard the pathetic quiver in her voice. Yvette slowly turned around and locked eyes with her. Hope saw a world of pain reflected in Yvette’s eyes. The pain of losing a child. Oh no. Yvette headed for one of the stools at the kitchen island, her steps slow and deliberate, as if she were walking with an invisible cane. Harrison jumped up and pulled out her stool. She sat, then took a deep breath, and looked each one of the girls in the eye.
“There was a car accident. Your father died in a car accident.” There it was, the question that had been on all of their minds the past two decades, answered so matter-of-factly. Hope felt the sensation of something clawing at her insides. She wanted to throw something. She didn’t like this woman. Maybe Carla was right. Maybe Yvette was a liar. But even Hope couldn’t cling on to that thought. She may have been stoic, but the pain in Yvette’s eyes wasn’t something even an award-winning actress could pull off.
“When?” Hope asked.
“Twenty-four years ago. Shortly after you girls were taken from him.”
Taken from him?
“No,” Faith said. “Daddy. No.” Faith buried her head in her hands and began to sob. Brittany hurried up and threw her arms around her mother’s waist. Josh stared out at the yard.
“At least we know now,” Joy said. Hope wanted to smack her. She’d ruined everything. Why did she always have to blurt out whatever was on her mind? Hope wasn’t ready for this. She hadn’t wanted to know this soon.
“Tell us everything,” Hope said.
“Now who’s the bossy one?” Yvette said.
“Tell us everything,” Faith said.
“Or we walk,” Joy said. The three of them stood, chins up, staring at Yvette. Hope felt sad that this was what it took to unite them, but happy to know they had her back.
“Six months after you were taken,” Yvette said. “A few days before Christmas. He was on his way to get you girls back.”
We weren’t taken, Hope thought.
“We weren’t taken,” Joy said.
“Six months after they separated?” Faith asked.
“Separated?” Yvette said. “Is that what she told you?”
“What who told us?” Joy asked.
“That woman. The woman who ruined my life. My son’s life. All of our lives!”
“You blame our mother,” Faith said.
“She is to blame,” Yvette said.
“They were young. They were in an argument,” Faith said. “Carla was running to her mommy. That’s all. She said he’d follow. We’ve been waiting for him.”
“Well, looks like the wait is over,” Joy said.
He drank a lot, Hope thought. She kept it to herself, she wasn’t here to throw her father under a bus.
“Your parents didn’t separate. My son woke up one morning and you were all gone. You call her your mother. I call her your kidnapper.”
CHAPTER 13
A thick silence blanketed the room. Hope could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere, birds chirping, and a dog barking excitedly in the distance. That was probably Mr. Jingles. Hope wanted to tear out and look for him. He was definitely having a better time out there than they were in here. They appeared to be stuck in some sort of avant-garde tableau, or permanently frozen in a game of tag. This could be next year’s Christmas card. Hey, remember this moment? This is where our estranged, dying grandmother told us our father was long dead and our mother was a kidnapper. Good times. Happy new year from the Garland Girls!
Harrison broke the silence. “For real?” He looked around the room as if waiting for someone to declare it a joke.
“We weren’t kidnapped,” Joy said. “Your son abandoned us.”
“Old enough to remember, were you?” Yvette said.
Oh, snap. Joy glared but said nothing.
“You want to see the police report?” Yvette asked.
“Sure,” Joy said.
“If he was coming to get us, then he had to know where we were,” Faith pointed out.
“She’d threatened to do it before it happened. Said she’d take you all to Florida. But he didn’t know where. And he didn’t know she was actually going to do it. He woke up one morning and you were gone. Broke his heart into a million pieces.”
Hope felt herself sway and sank into the nearest chair. Was she telling the truth? Her own heart felt like it was breaking as she imagined her handsome young father waking up to find them all gone.
“There was a snowstorm predicted for the day he left. I told him to wait. But he wouldn’t. He said he had to make it to you girls by Christmas.”
No, no, no, no, no, Hope thought. That sounds like something he would say. No, no, no, no, no.
“What happened?” Josh asked.
“His car hit a patch of ice, spun out, and crashed into the woods on the other side.”
“Oh my God,” Faith said.
Anger surged through Hope. She sprung off the chair and faced Yvette. “Why? Why didn’t you find us then and tell us? Why did you make us wait all these years?”
“How was I supposed to find you when the police couldn’t?”
“Did you even try?” Hope said.
“I lost my son. I was grieving.”
“Is that a no?” Hope asked. The anger was driving her.
“I did the best I could,” Yvette said.
“So did our mother,” Faith said. “She wasn’t hiding us. She didn’t kidnap us. In fact, she spent almost every day of her life waiting for my father to walk through our front door. She loved him. She wanted him to find her.”
“I forgot about that,” Hope said. An image of Carla rose to mind. Their young mother sitting on the dirty floor in a yellow sundress, dark hair falling about her pretty face, back against the kitchen cabinets with her long, tanned legs pulled up, smoking a cigarette, staring at the door and waiting. “She literally sat on the kitchen floor for days. Was that what she was doing? Waiting for him?”
“Of course that’s what she was doing,” Faith said. “What did you think she was doing?”
“I don’t know,” Hope said. “That’s why I asked.”
“Where was I?” Joy asked. “Was anyone taking care of me?”
Hope wanted to zap Joy with a nasty retort. In Joy’s world, it was all about her. But the truth was, she was the one who had lost the most. Faith, who was eight when they took off, had years of memories of their father; Hope at four didn’t have nearly enough, but what she did remember she clung to; but poor Joy had none. She had a right to be a little bit selfish. She’d missed out on the best dad in the world. Well. In certain moments he was the best. He loved them fiercely. He was young, and so not a perfect man, but he did love them fiercely.
“You’ve been filled with her lies. I expected as much.” Yvette stood her ground.
Hope stepped even closer. “We had a right to know. We had a right to go to his funeral. We loved him.” Hope could feel years of tears filling up in her eyes. She suddenly wished Austin were here. She was missing a total stranger, wanted him to take her in his arms while she sobbed.
“I’m dying,” Yvette said. “What more do you want?”
“Where is he buried?” Harrison asked. Joy shot him a look. “It might help you get closure,” he added, taking her hand. Hope felt a pang of jealousy. He was such a nice guy. Joy had better not let this one go.
“He was cremated. I spread his ashes on this land. He’s part of it now. Just like you can be part of it now.” Yvette gestured around her as if their father were part of the dust mites in the air.
“Happy we’re all together for Christmas no
w?” Joy said to Hope.
“Yes,” Hope said. Am I? It just didn’t feel right to answer, Sort of. “And our father would be happy too.”
“Speaking of Christmas,” Yvette said. “I have a few rules.”
An image of the nutcrackers stuck in the backseat of Faith’s SUV flashed through Hope’s mind.
“Rules?” Joy said. Her nostrils flared and Hope found herself staring at Joy’s silver nose ring.
“My only son died around Christmas. I lost you three girls too. I haven’t celebrated a Christmas since Rupert passed and I don’t intend to start now.”
“But you invited us here for Christmas,” Hope said. And it might be your last one.
“I invited you here,” Yvette said. “It just happens to be around Christmas. If I could have postponed my death until Easter, I would have.”
“We could celebrate Kwanzaa instead,” Joy said.
“What’s that?” Yvette said.
“See?” Joy said, turning to Harrison. “Racist.”
“Oh, do give us an informed rundown of Kwanzaa, Joy,” Faith said. She pulled up a spot on the floor and began doing yoga stretches.
Harrison shook his head. “I don’t celebrate Kwanzaa. But I do love me a Merry Christmas.”
“Not the point,” Joy said.
“Mom?” Brittany said. “Are we really not going to have a Christmas?”
“Of course not,” Faith said. She was now lying on her back and tilting her legs over her head. “We’ll celebrate Christmas.”
“And Kwanzaa,” Joy said.
“You really want to rob your only great-granddaughter of celebrating Christmas this year?” Faith yelled from the floor. Watching Faith do yoga was really stressing Hope out. She had an urge to make Christmas cookies. Or just eat fudge icing with a spoon. Heck, her finger would do. Just give her the container. Maybe she could wash it down with a candy cane martini. She made a mean one if she did say so herself.
“You can celebrate Christmas after I’m gone,” Yvette said. She leaned in toward Brittany. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars to skip Christmas this year.” Brittany’s eyes widened.
