French Roast (The French Twist Series Book 4)

by Glynis Astie

  I wandered into the kitchen, absently thinking about what to make for dinner. I had eaten so many cookies, I wasn’t sure there was room in my stomach for anything else. Alas, both of my children (in utero and out) needed a little more sustenance than an endless supply of sugar. Oh, and my husband might be hungry too.

  A quick tour of the refrigerator indicated grilled cheese was our best option. Morning sickness was starting to get the better of me and grocery shopping was sinking further and further down my list of priorities. Things like not throwing up on my desk (or on any whiny employees) had taken precedence over shopping for nutritious food for my offspring. Thank goodness Louis was there to pick up the slack—most days. Evidently, today was not one of those days.

  Not that it mattered at this point. We were leaving for New York in three days, so we could get by with the combination of the dregs from our pantry and a little takeout. Luc may as well get started on his holiday diet of sugar, fat and more sugar now or he would never survive his first full-on Bennett Christmas.

  I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach as I thought about how enchanting Luc’s holiday vacation was going to be. My mom went all out when we were kids, but the addition of four grandchildren had given her reason to kick things up a notch. The preliminary schedule she had emailed was crazy enough to cause my overly ambitious sister concern.

  Instead of the two kinds of cookies she used to bake when we were kids (sugar and gingerbread), she elected to make five—adding jam thumbprint, almond crescents and triple chocolate bombs to the mix. She planned to have the kids not only help her decorate the eight foot tree in the living room, but each of their own mini trees with corresponding personally-tailored themes. In addition, the list of events was endless—caroling, recipe contests, talent shows, and at least four holiday parties. Between interrupted nap schedules and a monumental amount of sugar, my mother was just asking for multiple meltdowns. It seemed Gramma wanted to show off her perfect little angels a little too much.

  Kate and I had already agreed to modify the schedule once we arrived—which was our little secret. If we gave her any advance notice of our dissention, Mom would have too much time to guilt us into changing our minds. There was nothing like living across the country to make us feel as though we had to give in to all her demands. For better or worse, we had to keep our children’s best interests at heart. (Not to mention our own. Messing with a sleep schedule always resulted in dire consequences—as in, you wished you had never been born.)

  After assembling our sandwiches and placing them in the panini maker, I grabbed a pad of Post-its out of our utility drawer and jotted down a few final things to pack. Pregnancy brain was pretty brutal for me the first time (I actually forgot my own phone number once), so I had to do my best to stay ahead of the curve this time around. I would never forgive myself if I forgot one of Luc’s gifts or an essential stuffed animal. No one wanted to relive the great hippo-napping crisis of two thousand and fourteen. Mr. Hippo still wasn’t speaking to me.

  I knew there was one more item to write down, but the identity of said item eluded me. I closed my eyes, trying to picture what I had told myself not to forget, but to no avail. It looked like someone was going to be an unhappy camper this trip, but it was anyone’s guess as to which one of us that would be. Things really fell apart when my brain was impaired. Okay, impaired to this level. I didn’t believe it had ever functioned entirely properly, but it had always been good enough.

  The loud chime of the phone knocked me out of my reverie—and not a moment too soon. The sandwiches had been seconds away from burning. After rescuing our sustenance from prolonged heat exposure, I grabbed the phone just before the answering machine picked up. (It was hard enough to get Louis to answer the phone when he didn’t have his hands otherwise occupied. Such a distraction during a video game war would not be tolerated.)

  “Hello?”

  A muffled sound came over the line, but the volume of Louis’ and Luc’s cheering frenzy made it impossible for me to understand anything—even from the next room. Those boys sure knew how to party.

  I cupped my hand over the receiver and yelled, “Pipe down, please!”

  Properly chastened, they lowered their voices to a more reasonable level.

  “Hello?” Still unable to discern any intelligible vocal activity, I glanced down at the Caller ID, quickly identifying my sister as the mystery person. “Kate? Are you in a tunnel or something? I can’t hear you.”

  “Sydney,” she rasped.

  My blood ran cold. Something was very, very wrong.

  “Kate! Where are you? Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s not me.”

  I ran down the hall and into our bedroom, sinking down to the floor before my knees had the chance to give out. “What happened?”

  “There’s been an accident,” she whimpered.

  “An accident?” Everything seemed to stand still. The only thing tying me to reality was the rapid beat of my heart.

  “The roads were icy and—”

  Wait! Ice? The weather here was blustery, but dry. That meant…

  My mind barely registered a small commotion on the other end of the line. My thoughts were too busy racing with every possibility of disaster to focus on the minutiae in front of me.

  The urgent tone of a new voice brought me back to the present moment. “Syd?”

  “Nick!” I cried. “Please tell me something. Anything!”

  He took a deep breath. “Your parents were involved in a head-on collision.”

  “What?” My head exploded with grief, forcing me to my feet in search of the closest bathroom. I had a terrible feeling I was about to lose the contents of my stomach, which was filled to the brim during our tree-trimming frivolity. Suddenly, it felt like a million years ago.

  “Another driver lost control of his car and swerved right in front of them.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “They’re both in surgery right now, but Charlie will call us as soon as he has any news.”

  I found myself unable to form words. Instead I curled up on the floor of the bathroom, feeling slightly soothed by the cool tile against my cheek.

  “Syd? Can you hear me?” I heard the panic in Nick’s voice, but couldn’t make myself respond.

  Louis poked his head in the room. “Are you okay, mon—” One look told him everything he needed to know. He quickly knelt beside me and took the phone out of my hand.

  “Hello? Who is this?” He was quiet while his brother-in-law apprised him of the series of catastrophic events. “Thank you, Nick. We’ll stay by the phone.”

  Louis pressed the off button and laid the phone on the vanity before pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, fearing the worst.

  “What are we going to do, Bluey? I can’t…”

  “The doctors are doing everything they can to save them, mon coeur. We must hold on to that.” He stroked my hair gently. “I’m sorry, but we won’t know anything else for a few hours.”

  I nodded, wondering how I would get through those very long hours.

  “Mommy?”

  My heart stopped at the sound of his voice. I couldn’t let him see me like this. I had to shield him from my anguish and from the very real possibility that he had lost his grandparents.

  Louis rose to his feet. “I’ll give you a minute to freshen up. There’s no need to tell him anything yet. He would only worry.”

  I nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. I had to do whatever it took to protect Luc for as long as possible. Maybe everything would be fine. Maybe they would both walk away from the accident. Maybe we would all make it to end of this nightmare a little stronger than we were before.

  My eyes fell to the floor when I realized, “maybe” had rarely resulted in a good outcome for me.

  Louis embraced me one last time before slipping out to find Luc. “Mommy just needs a minute, Minou.”

  Luc’s muffled voice came through the door. “Did t
he baby make her sick again?”

  “No, I think she’s just tired.”

  “Daddy,” Luc accused, “did you tell her that you beat Yoda? ‘Cause you can just reset the game and he’ll be just fine. She doesn’t have to be upset.”

  He sounded so damn earnest, I smiled in spite of my current state of terror. If only life had a reset button.

  Chapter Seven

  I glanced up at the flashing sign, noting our flight had been delayed once again. My hands instantly formed fists, wishing I had something to hit. I had so much fear, anger and agony building up inside, I was pretty sure I would explode. Where was good old Ouiser Boudreaux when you really needed someone to hit? I sighed deeply, realizing as phenomenal a job Shirley MacLaine did portraying Ms. Boudreaux in Steel Magnolias, thrashing a fictional character wouldn’t make me feel any better.

  I felt a hand close over mine. “I’m going to get something to drink, Syd. Do you want anything?”

  Devoid of rational thought, I mumbled, “A nice cup of tea.”

  My heart lurched and I became lost in the memory of the first time my mother had told me about the restorative power of tea. She insisted that consuming this magical beverage gave one perspective, allowing the solution to a problem to rise to the surface. (At the time, I wasn’t sure how this bitter liquid was going to help me feel less ugly, but I appreciated her effort just the same.) A heavy weight settled on my chest when I realized this was the first time in a very long time when tea had no option but to let us down.

  I stared at Kate with horrified eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  She pulled me to her chest. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re going to make it in time.”

  I held on to her for dear life, feeling tears welling in my eyes once more. “I’m scared, Kate.”

  “Me too,” her voice broke.

  This was truly a time for firsts. Not only had I been abandoned by tea, but my sister couldn’t muster her usual, “we can get through this” attitude. How could I possibly blame her? Our latest update from Charlie was devastating. According the latest scan, Mom’s brain wasn’t registering any activity.

  For what seemed like the millionth time that day, I wondered how I was supposed to exist in a world where my mother didn’t. Initially, Kate kept contending Mom could come back from this, but everything the doctors had told us indicated otherwise. After the bombshell this morning, we knew there wasn’t the slightest possibility of recovery. She was gone.

  “I’m not ready to say goodbye, Kate.”

  Prolonged silence caused me to glance up. My pain was reflected in her face, the usual sparkle absent from her eyes.

  Sparkle.

  My chest began to heave. I would never see my mother’s eyes sparkle again. I would never hear her laugh, feel her embrace or become enveloped by her smile. I desperately wanted to run, to do anything to escape this terrifying reality, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” I whimpered.

  “I don’t either.” Kate swallowed slowly. “We’ll just have to figure it out together.”

  Fresh tears clung to my eyelashes. “She would want us to figure it out together.”

  Kate nodded.

  “Did you speak to Dad?”

  She nodded once more, reminding me of Sam’s Cinderella bobblehead—only far less chilling. (Those big eyes scared the crap out of me. They were clearly up to no good, no matter what the fairy tales said.)

  “Is he feeling any better?” I prompted.

  “He is. They’re going to let him go home on Friday.” Her mouth tried to form a smile, but failed miserably. It was as though her muscles refused to follow this once familiar pattern.

  “Good.” I tried to focus on the fact that he was okay. I closed my eyes and imagined his face, hoping I would feel a small sense of comfort. The trouble was, every time I saw his face, hers was right next to it, reminding me of the nightmare we were currently living through.

  Why didn’t I tell her I was pregnant? How could I have been so stupid?

  “Syd?”

  “Mmm?”

  “What were you thinking about?” She pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “You looked really pissed.”

  Surprised by her use of such coarse language (although I really shouldn’t have been at this point, she had been slipping a lot lately), I managed a small smile. “I was wondering why I didn’t tell her about the baby.”

  “You wanted to see the joy on her face when you told her.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Haven’t I heard of video chats? I am married to the biggest nerd on the planet.”

  “You wanted the real thing, Syd. I get it.”

  My response was barely audible. “Now she’ll never know.”

  “She knows.”

  “Are you pulling the ‘I’m always right’ card?”

  “I am.”

  “She was remarkably perceptive. We couldn’t get anything past—” I clamped my hand over my mouth. I had just spoken about my mother in the past tense.

  My eyes found Kate’s, both of us stunned into silence.

  Ten interminable hours later, Kate and I approached the baggage carousel in the bowels of Newark Airport. Normally I would feel a sense of excitement, because I would be seeing my parents in a matter of minutes. Today I just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in. Breathing out. Today was about nothing but survival.

  Kate wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. What a smell! Did someone die in here?”

  Nervous laughter escaped before I could stifle it. She followed suit, blushing profusely.

  “What is wrong with us?”

  Kate shook her head sadly. “We’re going through hell, Syd. Our usual observance of propriety is on the fritz.” She paused, elbowing me. “Although, yours never quite works properly.”

  In the absence of a witty retort, I stuck my tongue out at my sister. She was absolutely right, but way to kick a girl when she was down.

  “Auntie Syd! Auntie Kate!”

  We turned at the sound of our names, thrilled to see a curly little head bobbing toward us, closely followed by her shell-shocked mother. A lump formed in my throat when I found myself face-to-face with Zoe. Somehow the gravity of our situation seemed more real in her presence. I hugged her a little longer to express my gratitude for her unwavering support of my dad and brother for the past two days. She gave me a sympathetic look and we turned to see what our companions were up to.

  After giving Kate a long hug and a kiss on the cheek, Ginny approached me with a shy smile. Momentarily thrown by the foreign feeling of joy, I bent down to scoop her into an embrace. From the moment her arms encircled my neck, I felt the first real smile of the day spread across my face. As she buried her face in my hair, I let myself relax, inhaling the soothing combination of her sweet strawberry shampoo and oatmeal moisturizer. Hoping to prolong the experience, I took another hit. Did I detect a hint of cinnamon? My mouth watered at the thought of the Christmas cookies which were most likely filling Zoe’s kitchen.

  And just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, she whispered, “You’re my favorite aunt.”

  That never happened! With someone as angelic as Kate in the mix, I was never anyone’s favorite. I was the goofball aunt who made everyone shake their heads in wonder. The one who did and said the silliest of things. The one who made them feel better about their own childish mistakes. Oh. Now it made sense.

  Grateful for the happiness she ignited in my heart—no matter how fleeting—I squeezed her a little tighter. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

  “Will you sit next to me in the car, Auntie Syd?”

  I grinned. “Absolutely.” I would be happy to leave the adult conversation to Kate and Zoe, while I held Ginny’s hand and debated the benefits of Stanley versus Phineas and Ferb.

  After fighting our way through an hour of traffic, we pulled into the hospital parking lot. A wave of nostalgia passed over me as I took in the
familiar setting. Before my mother began her career as the proprietor of a paint-your-own pottery studio, she worked as a financial analyst for this hospital. She spent ten years of her life toiling away in a miserable job so she could buy us whatever our little hearts desired.

  I gazed up at the vast brick building, trying to clear my mind of all irrational thought. The more I battled this difficult task, the more the increasingly familiar sense of dread settled into my stomach.

  How am I supposed to live through this?

  As unwelcome as it was, the answer was staring me in the face. There was no choice. I had to live through this.

  Kate’s voice cut through my heartbreaking conclusion. “Thanks for the ride, Zoe.”

  “Yes, thanks, Zoe.”

  Her first attempt at a response unsuccessful, she cleared her throat and murmured, “You’re welcome.” She hesitated briefly. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  Kate hugged her. “You’re already doing it.”

  “And we’re grateful,” I breathed.

  “Will I see you later, Auntie Syd? I want to show you my new book.”

  Zoe interceded on my behalf. “Tomorrow, Ginny.”

  Ginny’s pout made me reach for her. “We can read it as many times as you like tomorrow, okay?”

  The resulting smile lit up her entire face. I did my best to memorize her expression, so I could call it up in the midst of what I was about to encounter. Perhaps the sunny memory would help me keep my shit together. Oh, who was I kidding? I never had my shit together. Plan B: maybe the memory would keep me from completely falling apart in public.

  Following a teary goodbye from Ginny, Kate and I walked to the entrance of the hospital. Was it just me or did our steps slow the closer we came to the doors? As we crossed the threshold, I felt my heart skip a beat. This was it.

  Kate took my hand and led me briskly to the elevator. After pushing the button, I took in the festive holiday decorations which used to delight me as a child. I suddenly found myself resentful of this blatant expression of joy. For many, this hospital was a source of unimaginable pain and these trimmings could do nothing to mask that. This holiday would be forever associated with one of the worst things in life: death.