by Gun Brooke
“You’re right. Why don’t you go be the peacemaker and I’ll stay with Miranda?” Irene touched Faythe’s hand briefly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Faythe wanted to caress Miranda’s beautiful hair, but knew better. She patted Irene’s hand quickly instead, got up, and hobbled back to their table. Nobody was there. Deanna had maneuvered her family back toward the parking lot where the two teenagers, obviously bored, sat on a nearby bench, occupied with a cell phone. “You’ll never change, will you, Deanna?” Angela sounded tired and upset. “No matter what I do, or don’t do, you’re going to cling to your grudges and blame me.”
“I’m not out to cast blame on anyone. You made your choices years ago, knowing full well the repercussions.”
“Your vindictive attitude—”
“Vindictive!” Deanna flung her hands up, looking suddenly so hurt and exasperated that Faythe had to act. Using her crutches to lengthen her stride, she stood next to Deanna in seconds.
“Miranda is doing better. No need for any sedation. Irene is helping her pick flowers.” Faythe put on her best professional expression, shifted one crutch over to her left, and extended a hand to Angela. “We haven’t been properly introduced. No time, I guess.” Before all hell broke loose. “My name is Faythe Hamilton.”
“Oh, shit, Dad. It’s the Faythe Hamilton. On morning TV!” Trista snapped her cell phone shut and rushed up from the bench, followed by her sister.
“Watch your language, Trista. Ms. Hamilton. What an honor. I can’t imagine how you know Deanna.” Angela’s politeness barely masked her distress.
“We’re neighbors and good friends.” Faythe greeted the rest of the family the same way. Trista raised her cell phone after flipping it open again, obviously intending to take a picture. “Please, Trista. I’d rather you not. I’m here as a private person, not in my capacity as a TV reporter. If you ask me some other time, I’d be glad to pose with your sister while you take a picture.” Pleased with herself for the smooth, reprimand, Faythe glanced at Deanna, who wasn’t quite so pale anymore. “You okay?” she murmured.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” Deanna took a deep breath. “Angela,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I’m not trying to be difficult. This isn’t about me. Not at all. We’re here for Miranda’s sake. It’s her school picnic, and the staff have spent months preparing her and the others for this day so they could enjoy it. If Irene Costa or I had known you were coming, we could have both prepared Miranda for this type of change, you on your visiting days, I on mine. As for bringing Trista and Laney, maybe it would’ve been better to let them stay home and not force them to come. They’re not here because they care about Miranda but because you made them come. I can’t even begin to imagine why.”
“They’re part of the family. How can Miranda ever know her other sisters if she never sees them?” Angela sobbed. “All you do is criticize me. You find fault with everything I do.” Percy wrapped a steadying arm around her.
“Miranda can’t handle two selfish teenagers. If they came here because they care, one at a time on a regular basis, she might be able to cope, but since that’s not the case…” Deanna pushed her hands into her jeans pockets. “I thought you read my note last time you put Miranda through a last-minute change.”
“There you go again! It’s like you accuse me of not caring, of not loving my own daughter.”
The conversation was going downhill fast, and Faythe was about to ask a question when a group of people in formal business suits came down the broad steps from the main entrance. Faythe thought she heard Deanna moan and glanced her way.
“Mrs. Moore?” A blond woman stepped away from the group and came up to them. “We’ve met a few times a while back. Your daughter is making fantastic progress.”
“Thank you.” Angela shook the woman’s hand, looking intimidated yet impressed. “This is my husband, Percy Bodell, and his two daughters, Trista and Laney.” Angela glanced at Deanna. “And my oldest daughter, Deanna, and her friend Faythe Hamilton.” She blushed faintly. “I’m terrible with names. Mrs. Mueller, isn’t it?”
“Gloria Mueller.” The smile on the bright pink lips faded marginally. She raised an eyebrow at Deanna. “We’ve met.” Faythe had to dig her nails into her palms to keep quiet. So this was Deanna’s nemesis. Or one of them, at least. Elegant in a frosty sort of way, Gloria Mueller was a stunning woman in her late forties.
She wore a dark blue skirt suit, with a crisp white blouse. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate twist, and the makeup was flawless, if a bit bright and too pink. She appeared to be tough, not a person you wanted in the opposite corner. But having Gloria in your corner actually sounded worse.
“Faythe Hamilton?” Gloria studied Faythe for a moment and clearly made the connection. “As a representative of my hometown, I want to welcome you to Grantville, Ms. Hamilton.”
“Thank you.” Claiming the whole town as yours, eh, lady? Faythe searched for weaknesses or flaws in Gloria’s perfect appearance but couldn’t spot any. “I was here many times as a child. I love it here.” She stepped closer to Deanna, seeing no reason to explain how well they knew each other and that they lived next door to each other.
“Vacationing, I understand? You must come pay me a visit before you head back. I can arrange for a special tour of the city hall and its surrounding park.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Faythe said cheerfully, trying to make her voice sound sugary innocent. “Deanna and I would love to. Perhaps next week?”
Gloria looked like she had herniated something. “Ah, next week? What a pity.” She squinted and shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. “We’re having maintenance before the autumn season kicks off. I’ll have to get back to you, Faythe.” Faythe knew no invitation would ever come unless it was for her alone, which was beyond rude. She wrapped an arm around Deanna’s waist, smugly satisfied when Gloria’s eyes narrowed and she looked like she would be sick.
“How lovely to meet a member of the school board.” Angela studied Deanna closely and looked back and forth between her and Gloria. “We can’t thank you enough for what the staff at Tremayne’s does for our Miranda.”
“Oh, that’s what we love to do,” Gloria said, a half smirk on her lips and a steely expression in her eyes. “I’m honored to dedicate my life to serving our community. It’s also a privilege to be able to keep our young safe and out of harm’s way.”
Gloria’s obvious hints would have been hilarious if they hadn’t devastated Deanna, who leaned heavily against Faythe. Determined not to let on how this venomous snake affected Deanna, Faythe held her tight. “Oh, I know,” Angela said. “It’s so important to find out the truth behind matters like that.” She found the nucleus of truth instantly, without realizing it.
Faythe squeezed Deanna’s side. Please, honey, tell this woman off once and for all. You can do it. But Deanna remained quiet until Gloria said good-bye to Angela and Percy.
“Isn’t she a lovely, gracious person?” Angela asked.
“Actually, I thought she was a stuck-up bitch,” Trista said from behind her father. “I didn’t like her.”
“Me either,” Laney piped up.
Faythe was delighted. Maybe there was hope for the brats. She turned to Deanna, shaking her arm to get her attention. “Want to go help Miranda get ready for a little picnic with all of us? Maybe if we take a blanket and sit over by the flowers, it’ll work out. She loves them and they calmed her once before.” The question seemed to stir Deanna out of the personal hellhole Faythe knew she’d just visited.
“All right. Why not? We’ve already given the other families enough to gossip about.” She let go of Faythe and started across the lawn. Faythe studied Deanna’s rigid, squared shoulders and wondered how many times she’d had to grin and bear it over the last few years.
Sighing, she turned to the girls. “You two could help by bringing the food over.” Faythe turned to Angela and Percy. “And the plates and decorations?”
>
“Sure,” Percy said, and pushed his fingers through his thick, black hair. “We drove all the way here, after all.”
“Excellent. See you in a bit. Just give us ten minutes. If we can’t get through to her we’ll have to call it a day, I suppose, and let Deanna take care of her.”
“All right.” Angela looked like she would cry, but then she, like her daughter, seemed to pull strength from somewhere and followed her stepdaughters and husband over to the picnic table.
When Faythe reached Deanna, Miranda, and Irene, her armpits and palms burned from using the crutches so much. She approached them slowly, not wanting to trigger another episode. Surprisingly, Miranda looked up, her hands full of flowers with their stems picked exactly the same length. “Faythe,” she said. “Nice person.” Tears welled up in Faythe’s eyes. Deanna looked just as taken aback, while Irene fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose.
“If you only knew.” Deanna didn’t say anything else, but those few words made Faythe realize what a significant step this was for Miranda.
“I can imagine,” she murmured, and wiped quickly at her eyes.
“Now. Do you think this can spill over to your family?” Deanna’s look clearly said she’d rather they leave, but she nodded.
“Let’s try.” She cupped Miranda’s chin and quickly let go when Miranda pulled back with an annoyed look. “Miranda. How about we ask Mama over to have the picnic with us?”
“It is Saturday.”
“Yes. And it’s a special Saturday.”
“Mama comes on Sundays.”
“But today is a special Saturday. All the other students have all their family members here. It wouldn’t be fair if you couldn’t have that too, would it?” Deanna flinched after she spoke. Had her own words struck a chord within herself, Faythe wondered. Deanna and her mother had denied Miranda the joy of being a complete family for years.
“Families and picnics.” Miranda tilted her head as if she thought about it. “Even on Saturdays.”
“Yes. Even on Saturdays.”
Faythe intended to ask Deanna if any of them had ever bothered to ask Miranda what she wanted. Maybe the family feud kept them too occupied, and they had been trying to keep the hostility away from her. “Mama?” Miranda looked over at the table where Angela and the others were gathering their things. “Leaving?”
“No, no. They want to come over here and sit on a blanket like you and I sometimes do.”
“Yes. Come and sit on a blanket.” That seemed to settle things for Miranda. She turned her attention back to the flowers and started lining them up on the grass, color coded and in perfect order.
Faythe caught Angela’s attention and waved them over, and Irene offered to run up to Miranda’s room and get the big picnic blanket Deanna stored there. She was back before the others had transferred all the items from the table. Soon they all sat on the edge of the plaid blanket with Miranda in the middle, busily arranging the decorative flowers in the empty squares. Grateful for the Indian summer that allowed the flowers to bloom later than usual and the families to enjoy such a sunny day, Faythe bit into a croissant and poured herself some coffee. Nobody spoke much. Perhaps they felt they’d said too much before. Faythe couldn’t even begin to guess if this peace would last and lead to some understanding, but for now, it was a very good start.
Chapter Twenty
When Faythe tripped and almost fell from exhaustion, Deanna took one of her crutches away. Wrapping her arm around Faythe’s waist, she helped her inside. Faythe’s skin was warm—no, hot, under her shirt. Worried that Faythe had overdone it, she hoped Faythe didn’t have a fever.
“It ended on a good note, don’t you think?” Faythe yawned.
“Yes. It did.” Despite the emotions buried so deeply only a drilling rig could find them, the afternoon had been all about Miranda instead of old family feuds. Deanna had even awkwardly patted her mother on her shoulder when she got into the car with Percy and the girls. Angela looked stunned and her eyes were suddenly shinier than usual. Could Angela have missed her as much as she— Deanna tried to focus on Faythe.
Feeling guilty about how Faythe had hobbled back and forth on her crutches on one peacekeeping mission after another, Deanna took a firmer hold of her. Instead of the relaxing event they’d planned, they’d ended up in a major family drama. Once Angela and her family left, Deanna spent more time with Miranda to make sure she was all right and didn’t realize how late it was until Faythe nodded off and nearly slipped off Miranda’s desk chair.
Faythe waved toward the bed when they entered her bedroom.
“Just want to lie down a bit. Can’t believe how sore my arms are. And my hands. And shoulders. Ow.”
“Why don’t I help you get ready for the night? You’re worn out.”
“I’m fine.” Faythe squinted up at Deanna. “Honestly. Just a bit sore and tired.”
“You fell asleep in the car before we even passed the school gates.”
“As I said. Tired.”
Deanna shook her head. “I’m going to run you a bath. That’ll help with the soreness.” She held up a hand to keep Faythe from objecting.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you wrap your foot afterward.”
“All right.” Faythe sat on the bed, swaying. “I don’t understand why I’m so tired.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“I’m usually tougher than this.” Faythe looked peeved.
“Even the sun has its spots, and you’re obviously not that tough today. Actually, you were tough enough for ten earlier today when you stopped me from crumbling.” Self-conscious, Deanna hurried into the bathroom, turned on the water, and rummaged through Faythe’s bath salts. She loved how Faythe smelled, and when she opened a pink jar with the same scent, she poured some into the bathwater. When the tub was full, she had to quit stalling and face Faythe again.
Faythe was leaning against the pillows, her hand on the TV remote, almost asleep. She’d managed to remove everything but her underwear and the bandage around her foot, and her skin looked smooth and slightly tanned. Wearing only white cotton panties and sports bra, she seemed much younger than her age.
“Hey, the bath is ready. Want me to help you with that?” Deanna pointed at her wrapped foot.
“No, I’ll be fine. Just give me the crutches and—oh!” Faythe fell back onto the bed. “Damn it. Why am I so tired? I’m used to working long hours.”
“Not on crutches. Trust me. I know how much energy it takes to maneuver those suckers.”
“You’ve been on crutches?”
“When I was sixteen. Fell off a ladder and broke my ankle.” Deanna knelt in front of Faythe and began to unwrap her bandage. “I painted houses in the neighborhood on my summer break and misjudged a step. I landed on my left foot.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, but I was lucky. It healed without any complications. Hated the crutches though.”
“They hurt your arms.”
“That they do.” Deanna supported Faythe on the way to the bathroom. Trying not to let her eyes rove too obviously along Faythe’s half-naked body, she stopped inside the door, unsure what to do.
Faythe lit up. “Oh, how nice.” She looked down at herself balancing on one foot next to Deanna. “Would you feel awkward helping me get in? I’ve managed this on my own so far, but I really feel light-headed.”
“Not a problem.” Deanna felt like the world’s worst liar. Of course she would feel awkward. She wouldn’t be able to keep from ogling Faythe’s naked body, but she was pretty sure she could mask her reaction. I hope. She moved behind Faythe. “Arms up.” Damn if she was going to stand right in front of Faythe and stare at her breasts. She pulled the sports bra over Faythe’s head, then stared at her hips where the cotton panties beckoned her. Deanna spoke fast. “If I steady you, can you manage, then?”
“Sure.” Faythe steadied herself against the wall with one hand and tugged at her panties with the other. “Hell, this isn’t working. Let m
e sit on the edge of the tub.” She turned around and her breasts were the most beautiful Deanna had ever seen. Small, slightly pointy, and with plump, pink nipples, their sway was barely noticeable as Faythe managed to pull her panties down to her thighs and sit in one fluid motion. She swayed, but Deanna held her shoulders. “Careful.”
“Trying to.” Faythe pushed the panties off the rest of the way and eased them aside with her uninjured foot. “So. There.” She turned, holding on to Deanna, and slid gracefully into the large tub. “Jesus, this is heaven.” She sank below the foam on the surface, ending Deanna’s torment of trying to look everywhere but at Faythe’s breasts and the spare tuft of caramel brown hair between Faythe’s legs.
“I knew it’d be good for you. You’ll feel better soon.” Deanna knelt next to the tub and felt the water, making sure it hadn’t cooled.
“How about some tea?”
“Tea?” Faythe wrinkled her nose. “Have you ever seen me drink tea? Ever heard me mention that foul beverage?”
“Eh, no, now that I think about it.” Deanna smiled. Faythe looked cute with disgust written all over her face.
“If you’re going to bring us anything, I’d love an espresso.”
“Espresso? At this hour?” Deanna checked her watch. “It’s ten o’clock.”
“I’ll sleep like a baby. Coffee never keeps me up. Chocolate does, though. Could be good to know.”
“Okay, so if I want you awake, I’ll buy you some of that dark Lindt chocolate.”
“Right.” Faythe looked alarmed. “Oh, damn. You’re the one with all the emotional upset today and you have to pamper me like this. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not that upset. And I actually enjoy taking care of you. It’s been a while, not counting Miranda.”
“Really? I’m not coming off as a super-pain?”
“No. You’re fine.” Damn it, you’re fine.
Faythe blushed and pushed her now wavy hair back from her face.
