If Only Forever

by Sophie Love

  “Come in,” she called, beckoning.

  Daniel opened the door, taking the lead, for which Emily was grateful. She was feeling intimidated by this whole situation and needed him to take the reins.

  Chantelle looked up as they came in. When she realized it was them she seemed to shrink, as though she could tell she was in trouble.

  Ms. Glass was all smiles as she shook Daniel’s and Emily’s hands in turn.

  “This is Gail, the school counselor,” she said, gesturing to the portly woman.

  Everyone sat. Emily found the setting very strange and stilted and felt immediately uncomfortable.

  “Chantelle has been doing some lovely paintings for us,” Gail explained in a soft, lilting voice. “Would you like to see?”

  She handed one of the pictures to Emily. Chantelle had painted a woman with white blond hair and blue jeans. In her arms was a baby.

  Frowning, Emily handed it to Daniel. When he saw the picture his gaze snapped up to meet hers and she wondered what he was thinking. Chantelle seemed tense as she watched the two of them studying her painting.

  Gail continued. “And we’ve been talking a bit, haven’t we, Chantelle? You were telling me about how you were feeling upset before you hit Toby.”

  Chantelle nodded but kept her gaze in her lap.

  “Can you tell Emily and your daddy a little more about that?”

  Chantelle just shrugged. “I was upset, that’s all,” she mumbled.

  “There was something else you told me, wasn’t there, Chantelle?” the counselor pressed. “About Toby and his family?”

  “Toby said his mommy was having a baby,” Chantelle said, her bottom lip trembling. “He was excited to have a brother or sister.”

  Gail looked at Daniel and Emily with a sympathetic look. Emily felt her heart clenching as all the pieces clicked into place. The woman in Chantelle’s painting was Sheila. Was she holding a baby because she was pregnant? Was that what she’d revealed to Chantelle in her letter? It would certainly explain why Chantelle had become aggressive toward Toby, because somewhere far away a sibling she may never get to meet was growing inside Sheila’s belly. The thought broke Emily’s heart.

  She looked over at Daniel. The pieces must have fallen into place in his mind too because he’d become pale.

  “Is that what your mom said in her letter?” Daniel asked Chantelle. Emily could tell he was trying to speak softly but there was an edge to his voice.

  Chantelle remained mute.

  “We’re not angry with you,” Emily added, gently. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Ms. Glass interjected at that moment. “Although Chantelle does need to understand that hitting isn’t the right way to handle her feelings.”

  Daniel glared at her. “I’m sure she understands that,” he retaliated.

  Gail became the mediator. “Let us give Chantelle a chance to speak,” she said. “If she’s ready.”

  But Chantelle just shook her head. Emily didn’t want to feel frustrated with the girl but she couldn’t help it. They hadn’t read Sheila’s letter and Chantelle hadn’t told them what was in it. Did Gail know? Had some stranger been able to crack through Chantelle’s exterior while they themselves had failed to?

  Gail swished her long braid over her shoulder and sat back in her chair, looking calmly at Daniel and Emily. “Perhaps now would be a good point to end this session? We can pick it up again next week.”

  “Next week?” Daniel said, sounding irritated. “I thought this was a one-off.”

  Ms. Glass became awkward at that moment. “We actually thought Chantelle might benefit from seeing Gail for weekly thirty-minute sessions.”

  “Who’s we?” Daniel said, folding his arms. “Because I certainly wasn’t consulted.”

  Emily could tell he was becoming more fraught. She felt anguished at the thought that his behavior may be noted and put forth during their court custody battles.

  “Could you give us a little bit of time to think about it?” Emily said. “Just to get our heads around the idea?”

  Gail nodded. “It can be very helpful for children like Chantelle to have the chance to take a bit of time out of the day to draw and play and really think about how they feel.”

  “Children like Chantelle?” Daniel repeated, his voice becoming slightly acidic. “What do you mean by that?”

  Chantelle was clearly picking up on all the negative emotions flying around the room. She curled her arms around her knees, almost as though attempting to occupy less and less space, to make herself invisible.

  Emily touched Daniel’s arm. She was worried about what effect his attitude might have on Chantelle, and on Gail’s and Miss Glass’s opinions of them as a family. She quietly but firmly said, “Let’s talk about it this evening.”

  Daniel nodded.

  Everyone stood. Gail held the door open for them to stream out. They left the room as a united family, shaken by uncertainty but still standing strong.

  Emily paused at the door.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said to Gail.

  Gail nodded. “It’s all going to be okay. But if we can encourage Chantelle to express herself through her pictures instead of with her fists that would be a good start.”

  Emily nodded, certain in her own mind that counseling sessions would be the right thing for Chantelle. It was convincing Daniel that would be harder.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  That evening, Emily decided they should all eat dinner together. Daniel had been so busy recently it wasn’t unusual for him to just grab something on the go, and Emily had fallen into a lazy habit of giving Chantelle a small meal immediately after school. But today was different. Today they needed to be together as a family and talk.

  She set up the table in the living room with flowers and candles, making sure that the environment was as relaxing as possible, and then, while Chantelle played up in her room, she cooked a big batch of spaghetti Bolognese. As she placed it in the oven to stay heated, Parker arrived for his shift.

  “That looks nice,” he said, peering in the oven. “Special occasion?”

  “Kind of the opposite,” Emily replied. “Chantelle had a bit of trouble at school today.”

  “So you’re bribing her to behave with Bolognese?” he said with his usual mischievous smile.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to make sure we have a proper meal together as a family. Spend some quality time together.”

  “You know, nothing says quality time like Jell-O for dessert,” Parker said. “I made some yesterday; there’s plenty left over for you all.” He was already putting on his chef’s jacket, turning up the sleeves so he could wash his hands thoroughly before starting work.

  “That would be great,” Emily said.

  Parker flashed her his cocky smile. “Good,” he said. “Strawberry okay?”

  “That would be great, thanks,” Emily said, turning to leave the kitchen.

  “Oh, and I’ll put the private sign up on the living room door,” Parker added. “Make sure none of the guests wander in and interrupt.”

  Emily was grateful to have support from Parker. Thanks to his help she now had a few spare minutes to spruce herself up before Daniel got back from work, so she went up to the bedroom to change and fix her hair. Finally, she slicked on some mascara, then went to Chantelle’s room.

  “Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” she said, poking her head around the door.

  But instead of finding Chantelle playing, she discovered that the little girl was curled up in a ball in her bed, weeping.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Emily said, rushing in.

  She sat on the bed and tried to hug Chantelle. But the girl moved away from her embrace.

  This had happened before, Emily recalled, and it had hurt just as much then. When Chantelle recoiled from her affection it felt to Emily as painful as being slapped. All she wanted was to comfort her, but Chantelle blocked her out. Emily sat there, uncertain of what to d
o.

  Just then, Emily heard the sound of the front door slamming. Daniel was home. But it didn’t look like she was going to be able to coax Chantelle out of her misery for the sit-down meal she’d planned for them.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Emily said softly. “I’m not going to interrogate you. Daddy and I just want to eat together, is all. You can do that, can’t you?”

  But Chantelle remained mute, locked in her ball.

  The bedroom door opened then and Daniel looked in. “Parker told me that we’re having a treat tonight. Bolognese and Jell-O! Sounds amazing.” He stopped then, clearly noticing Chantelle’s state. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Emily shook her head. “I think Chantelle’s just feeling a bit emotional, aren’t you, honey? She just needs to have a cry and then we’ll all head down for dinner.” She could hear her false reassurance, the pretend breeziness in her voice that her mind was sadly lacking.

  Daniel frowned, not buying it for a minute. He sat on the bed beside Emily and the crying ball of Chantelle.

  “Now, listen,” he said in a caring but authoritative manner, “you need to sit up.”

  Miraculously, Chantelle responded to her father. She sat up, her face red with anger and tears, her cheeks puffed. The scowl she wore was piercing.

  “Good,” Daniel said. “Now I want you to tell us what’s making you so angry. Is it your mom?”

  “Yes,” Chantelle mumbled.

  “What about her, sweetie?” Emily asked softly. But her gentle approach didn’t work. Chantelle was in no way responsive to her. It was Daniel’s more demanding tone she seemed to respond to.

  “Answer the question, Chantelle,” Daniel commanded. “Was there something in her letter that upset you?”

  Chantelle nodded.

  “Tell me,” Daniel said.

  Chantelle’s bottom lip trembled. “She told me that she was going to have a baby and that once the baby was born she would be able to get a house and then she’d come and get me and we would be a family again.”

  Emily felt her throat constrict. So Sheila was pregnant. Chantelle was going to be a big sister, but not because Daniel and Emily had conceived, but because Sheila had. Emily couldn’t help but feel bitter about it.

  If the news of Sheila’s pregnancy had affected Daniel in any way he didn’t show it on his face.

  “She can’t do that,” he told Chantelle using his matter-of-fact voice. “She can’t just come and get you whenever she feels like it.”

  Emily could tell by Chantelle’s expression that she just didn’t believe him. Her fear was so great that even the reassurance of her father wasn’t enough to placate it.

  “Even if she has a real house?” Chantelle asked. “Because she always said that was the problem. That if we just had a real house and didn’t have to move all the time then everything would be okay and she would be happy and a better mom.”

  Emily felt emotion rise in her throat. Chantelle talked rarely about her childhood, but when she did, it always upset Emily. There was always some new way in which the child had suffered that Emily had never even considered.

  “Did you move a lot?” she asked.

  Finally, Chantelle seemed to respond to her. She nodded. “All the time. We’d stay with mom’s friends. Then they’d kick us out and we’d go and stay with some other ones.” She started to cry again. “I always wanted her to get a house and now she’s going to because of the baby!”

  Emily sighed, her heart aching as she listened to the complex emotions Chantelle was experiencing. Jealousy that her mom was getting her life in order for her new sibling-to-be when she’d failed to do so for her. Fear that in getting her life in order she’d be taken away from the new home she had found here. No wonder she’d lashed out at Toby and his thoroughly uncomplicated version of a parallel situation.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. Emily looked up, confused, to see Parker peering round the side.

  “I had a feeling you guys might be in the mood for dinner in bed with a movie. So I took the liberty of…”

  He walked into the room with a tray in his hands, upon which were three bowls of steaming Bolognese, three glasses of juice, and three bowls of Jell-O topped with whipped cream.

  Chantelle seemed to brighten at the sight of the food. Parker set the tray down on the bedspread.

  “And let’s not forget this,” he added, pulling a DVD out of his large chef’s pocket. It was a Disney cartoon, one of Chantelle’s favorites. He popped it in the player for them and pressed play.

  As he left the room, Emily gave him a meaningful look and mouthed, thank you, touched that he’d gone to such effort for Chantelle, for them all.

  She picked up her bowl of food and settled down to share a meal with her two favorite people. Whatever troubles they faced in their future, they could handle them, just as long as they stuck together.

  *

  “You seem quiet,” Emily said to Daniel later that night.

  He was sitting in bed, his contemplative face lit by yellow lamplight. Emily came and sat beside him, crossing her legs in front of her on the bedspread.

  “I was thinking about Chantelle,” Daniel said. “About what we should do about her.”

  Emily reached out and rubbed his shoulders, feeling the tension pent up within them. “I don’t think we need to do anything in particular. We just need to relax for a day or two. Spend some time together in the house, play games, walk the dogs. Do things as a family.”

  Daniel remained quiet. Emily hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings, that he wasn’t thinking her comments were in any way blaming him for always being busy at Jack Cooper’s.

  “I was actually thinking it might be better to take a bit of time away somewhere quiet,” he said, finally.

  “A vacation?” Emily asked. “I don’t think the school would agree to Chantelle taking time off. They’d think we were rewarding her for hitting Toby.” She chuckled at her conjured mental image of Gail and Ms. Glass shaking their heads in disapproval.

  “No, I mean…” Daniel’s voice faltered. “I mean that the inn might not be the best environment for Chantelle right now.”

  Confused by the comment, Emily stopped rubbing Daniel’s shoulders. He turned to face her and took both her hands in his.

  “I’ve been reflecting on what Ms. Glass and Gail were saying in the meeting. Maybe Chantelle’s behavior would be more settled if she herself was more settled. With all the people coming and going and all the parties, it’s a lot for a child to take in.” He sighed, as if merely uttering these words was painful for him. “After what Chantelle told us about her start in life, living with all those different people all the time, I just don’t want her to think it’s normal to always be sharing her space with strangers. How will she ever feel secure? How will she ever get any privacy? I don’t want her always feeling like she has to adapt herself to whatever random events may be happening around her.” He exhaled loudly. “Does that make any sort of sense?”

  Was Daniel blaming the inn—and by extension, Emily herself—for Chantelle’s problems? She didn’t want to wade in with her insecurities, but Daniel was making it pretty clear that he was, even if he was attempting to veil it.

  “You didn’t say anything about this after the meeting,” Emily said, trying to remain calm despite the anger building within her. She rested her back against the headboard, no longer wanting to be quite so close to him. “I thought you disagreed with just about everything Ms. Glass and Gail were saying.”

  “As a knee-jerk reaction,” Daniel admitted. “I felt like I was being criticized. But I’ve had time to think it through and, well, I agree with them.”

  “But agree with them over what exactly?” she asked, her throat tightening.

  “Over how the disruptions in Chantelle’s life are affecting her behavior and about minimizing those disruptions as much as possible.”

  “And how do we minimize them?” Emily asked. She cou
ld tell just by reading between the lines that Daniel had come up with a plan, some way of helping Chantelle that he was now anxious to share with her. She braced for the impact.

  Daniel took a deep breath. “I was thinking about moving into the carriage house. It’s empty now that Colin’s checked out. It would be quieter and far less hectic.”

  “There’s nothing hectic about the inn,” Emily said defensively, cutting in. The thought of moving out of the happy home they’d constructed filled her with dread, not to mention the fact that she needed to be at the inn in order to run it effectively. “And Chantelle loves it here. Her behavior has just taken a momentary blip because of Sheila’s letters. The inn is the most stability she’s ever known. Taking her away from home would be harmful. She’ll bounce back in a few days, I’m sure of it.”

  Daniel seemed to grow exasperated. “You’re not listening to me. I’m saying that I don’t think she will ‘bounce back’ if we keep living here. I’m saying she’ll keep having these blips because she’ll always been dealing with change and fluctuation and all these people traipsing in and out of her life, appearing and disappearing again. I’m not talking about cutting the inn or you out of her life or anything.”

  Suddenly, it started dawning on Emily what Daniel really meant, what he was implying without saying it directly. He wasn’t talking about the whole family moving, he was talking about him and Chantelle moving without her!

  Emily started to feel cold all over as she broke out into a clammy sweat.

  “I just want to do what’s best for Chantelle,” Daniel continued. “You understand that, don’t you, Emily? And, well, this isn’t my house. It never has been. For you it is, sure, but sometimes for me I feel a bit like I’m camping out in your business, and that I’ve brought my daughter along for the ride.”

  If she’d felt bad before, Emily now felt as stunned as if she’d been slapped in the face. Had Daniel really just said my daughter? After everything she’d put into raising Chantelle, did he really view himself as her sole parent?