Somebody's Daughter

by Rochelle B. Weinstein

“I feel sorry for her,” she says. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive her. I want to hate her. I want to make her life a living hell. When she says she’s sorry like that, I can’t hold on to it. I try, but I can’t.”

  I smooth the tendrils of hair that escape the cloth band. “I want to hate her, too,” I say.

  “She has everything she wants,” she adds. “Everything. She has no idea how many people are jealous of her.”

  “They’re only things, honey.”

  “I don’t know. I like the Howards. They’re nice, and it’s always a fun time when they’re around. Grace never likes to be with them. Even with all that stuff, she came here. We were an instant family to her.”

  “Remember we talked about when people feel lost or empty on the inside, they do things to fill themselves up?”

  “I guess that makes sense,” she says, adding, “I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot. Not even close.”

  “I’ll be a bigger idiot if I ruin Grace’s life like this. It’ll make me feel worse.”

  “I understand, but you didn’t do this to Grace. She did this to herself. She had plenty of time to think about what she was doing.”

  “Grace is stupid sometimes,” she says. “She likes to be funny. She gets a lot of attention that way. I think she’s lonely. And I think she’s sad.”

  “Needing and seeking attention is dangerous. It can end up hurting you and the people you love. I’m sorry she hurt you, honey. Grace isn’t the only one who wishes she could take it away.”

  Footsteps fall along the hall. I don’t know if it’s relief or something else that washes over me.

  “Who’s that?” Zoe asks.

  “Your father.”

  “Where was he?”

  “Work.”

  “He’s doing a lot of that lately.”

  This revelation makes me sad, because we’re all feeling his absence.

  “I don’t want Grace to be punished any more than she is,” she says. “I really don’t. Isn’t it my choice to continue?”

  I repeat Jo Jo’s words from the other day. “The State has a case, and your testimony helps, but it’s not necessary to prove it.”

  She nods. “I don’t want to deal with lawyers and courtrooms and Grace’s face staring down at me when I go to sleep at night.”

  “The courts say a crime was committed, honey.”

  “It was my crime! The crime was committed against me! Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “No, not anymore,” I sadly whisper.

  “You said what I did isn’t who I am. This can’t be who Grace is. Every kid at school passed that video around. Are we going to go after everyone?”

  “Zoe, I love how you see the good in people, but some people aren’t innately good. I don’t know if this is the case with Grace. Maybe this will change her, but we need to let the courts do their job. They’re standing up for you, defending you. You’re making a difference.”

  This is not how I feel, but at this point, I don’t believe we have another option.

  “I don’t want them to!” She’s yelling, her voice fierce. “And I don’t want to leave the Ross. It’s one or the other, but not both. I’m not leaving the only home I’ve ever had and helping with this case against Grace. You can tell Daddy that.”

  Before I have a chance to answer, he steps in the room and says, “You just did.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Bobby turns on the light and sits next to us on the couch. His jacket is thrown over his shoulder, and his eyes are red.

  Before I can ask him what’s wrong, Zoe says, “Do I have to testify? I don’t want to . . . Daddy, please.” She gets up and parks herself on the floor in front of him. “Daddy, just listen to me. Please. I know you’re angry and upset. But look at me. I made a mistake. Grace made a mistake. We all make mistakes. You taught me to be strong, but you also showed me how to care about people. You. And Mom. We can make this right. We can. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  His eyes have lost their fight. His shoulders are slumped. He stares at Zoe and blinks back tears. I can’t decide if her message has sunk in or if he’s drunk.

  “Zoe, can I talk to your mom alone? I heard you, but can we talk tomorrow?”

  She leans toward him. “You’re not going to talk to me. You never want to hear what I have to say.”

  He grabs her hand and pulls her up toward him. She sits on his lap like she used to when she was a kid. He nuzzles close to her and whispers in her ear, “Everything I do is because I love you. It doesn’t always feel that way, but it’s the truth. Do you hear me, Zoe? I love you.”

  I watch them, and it breaks my heart and puts it back together all at once.

  “I love you, too, Daddy.” She slouches and lets him kiss the top of her head. Satisfied, she rises and walks toward her room.

  When she’s out of earshot, he drops his head in his hands. “I fucked up, Em.” His words are tinged with grief.

  I slide closer to him. My hand on his shoulder feels the despair. His arms come around me, and he collapses. “I love her,” he whispers into me. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “I love you, too,” he says.

  The words plant themselves deep in my soul.

  “It’s hard watching her grow up. It happens so fast.” He pulls away but only to wipe his eyes. “I want her to stay my little girl a little longer.”

  “So do I.”

  When he speaks again, he says, “Kinsley’s mom passed.”

  Sadness washes through me. It’s a painful loss that presses us together. “I’m so sorry, Bobby. I know how much this hurts.”

  “Mr. Summer and I were at the bar with his men,” he begins, swallowing the pain. “Alberto came by to let me know. I had to tell him the rumors about the sale were true. My men, my family, they’d have to find new jobs. I know I’ve let him down . . . he asked me about Zoe. ‘Señorita Zoe,’ he calls her. I told him I wished my old man were here. Guidance. I need some guidance.” His eyes well up. “He said he’s here. Always here.” Then he turns to me. “I don’t feel him, Em. I haven’t felt him in a long time.”

  “He’s in there,” I say, pointing at his chest. “He’s in Zoe. Lily. All of us.”

  “I’ve been horrible to her.” All that moves is the lone tear that slides down his face. “And then I heard her voice. I heard her talking to Grace . . . and to you . . . and I listened, Emma, I really listened. She’s an amazing kid. She’s able to do things I never could.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought I lost her. Someone took my place. I was angry, but dammit, I was sad. And when you told me about Monty . . . I lost you both at once.” He stops and finds my eyes. “Life is too precious and too short. I don’t ever want to know what it feels like to lose either one of you.”

  I cup his face and force him to look in my eyes. “You’re not losing me. And you haven’t lost Zoe. We’ve been here all along.”

  He puts his arm around me and pulls me to his side. I curl into him and close my eyes. He’s a thick tree, and I’m wrapped in his roots. I feel the steady rhythm of his heart, and I want to climb inside.

  “Em, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  I nuzzle into him. “This is hard on all of us,” I assure him. “It’s okay.”

  “You need to listen to me,” he whispers into my hair.

  It sounds serious; I pull back to face him.

  He shakes his head and stares at the floor. My body tenses, and there’s regret in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

  “The Ross is in trouble. I made a bad business decision.”

  I get up from the couch, and he reaches for me. I snatch my arm back, and he jumps up and comes around me. When I try to break away, he grips me tighter, making it impossible for me to move. He’s whispering in my ear, and I’m wondering how many lies string us together.

  His voice breaks. “I’ve been judging Zoe . . . and you . . . I’m no better.�
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  My body begins to weaken, and I listen.

  “I took out a mortgage on the hotel last year to invest in what I thought would be a profitable deal. Turns out it was bad. We owe a lot of money to the bank.”

  I sit with this. The lie. The betrayal. How we shield ourselves from those we love. I have no right to ask, but I do. “Why, Bobby? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He doesn’t answer. He only holds on tighter while our mistakes make us one.

  Minutes pass before he says, “I’ve been so angry at you. At Zoe. At the Howards. Price. But the person I’m most mad at is myself. Jonny was against it. I didn’t listen to him.” He grasps my eyes in his. “I thought I could make it go away. I thought I could protect you girls . . . and now it’s out of my hands.”

  A twisted relief presses me against him. The tears are streaming down my cheeks. I am sobbing. Our collective pain locks us in its grip. I imagine him holding on to his lie—the cover-up—and like me, his insides are hollow and worn.

  “You were right,” he insists. “We’re all capable of screwing up. I’m going to fix this. And I’m going to do right by Zoe. I’ve been terribly selfish and stubborn. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to accept it. Zoe’s braver than anyone I know. Much more than I’ll ever be.”

  I close my eyes while a thread of memories ties us together. All the reasons we fell in love weave through us, all the ways in which we promised to take care of each other. He’s hurting, and it feels good to be needed, but it breaks my heart a little, too.

  “How do we fix it?” I ask. “Is selling the only option?”

  He doesn’t answer, and I don’t know what that means.

  I grab his hand and lead him across the room. His eyes question me, but he follows. We head to the balcony outside. “Look at this place,” I say, staring out at the blackened ocean, the rising swells reminding us of what’s out there.

  “We’re all here. Nobody’s gone anywhere. It feels different, but we’re just changing and growing and finding out who we are. We’ll always have each other. Always.”

  His lips come down on my mouth. They’re ravenous, desperate. My entire body comes alive. The feel of him against the ocean breeze fills my every sense. If we lose the Ross, who am I to judge? We could have lost each other, and that would’ve been far worse.

  “I’ve missed you,” he says.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” I show him with my hands and then my mouth. His arms come around me as he slides his hands up and down my body. He pulls me closer, giving in to feelings he had tried for weeks to push away. He holds on with a deep longing. His kisses become harder, his need for me taking over.

  “I’ll never hurt you again,” I say. “No more secrets.”

  Sheepishly, he responds, “I’m sorry, too. I contributed to what happened. I pushed you. My jealousy was unwarranted. I know you, Emma. I know you better than anyone. In a perfect world, it would’ve never happened, but it did, and I know in some way it makes you who you are and explains why I feel for you the way I do.” Then he lifts me up and carries me through the door to our bedroom.

  He lays me down across our bed and comes down on top of me. His breath is warm against my cheek, and the whiskers on his skin tickle my neck and face. It sends a thrill down my legs, spreading them apart to let him in.

  It feels as though I’m giving myself to him for the first time. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m different, or because he sees me differently. It’s unclear. But in that moment, we are one.

  Afterward, we are on our sides staring into each other’s eyes when he says, “I’m going to make it up to Zoe. And to you.”

  I’m tracing his lips with my finger. “You already made it up to me.”

  “Making Zoe testify is a mistake,” he says. “You were right.”

  I pop up, the covers falling around me. “Can you repeat that?”

  “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out.”

  “You have no idea what this will mean to her.”

  “Yes, I do, Em. I know, because I know what this is doing to her. And I heard the kind of kid she’s growing up to be.” He stops and sits up. He rests against the headboard, and I lie in his arms. He strokes my hair.

  “I’m going to e-mail Rodriguez. We’re scheduled to meet Monday. I’m going to ask her if the Hudsons can join . . . and the Howards.”

  I’m curled into him when I ask, “Do you think she’ll listen? Jo Jo says it’s a crime no matter what. With or without the kids’ testimony.”

  “I know. But it’s worth a shot.”

  My fingers run up and down his chest. He rolls over on top of me and tells me he doesn’t want to talk about Grace Howard anymore. Then he touches me again, in the places he just left, and we have sex for the second time, something we haven’t done since we were newlyweds.

  CHAPTER 30

  The sun drifts off the horizon, and its glow stirs us from sleep. Bobby’s first words are “Good morning, beautiful,” as if it’s my name.

  “None of that was a dream, was it?” I ask.

  He gathers me in his arms. “Not even close.”

  “Did you hear from Rodriguez?”

  He reaches for his phone. “We have a meeting Monday morning. All of us. And Jo Jo. Don’t tell the girls. It’s a long shot, but I want to do this for Zoe. Let’s hope the Howards show up.”

  I take a moment to call Monica Hudson about our plan. The relief in her voice is the validation I need. They’re on board, eager to put this behind them. We all are.

  We spend the rest of the day with Kinsley and Elle and most of the staff. Arrangements are made for a memorial service, and Elle cries on my shoulder. “We’re starting our life together with so much sadness.”

  I tell her otherwise. “Maybe your worst days are behind you. Look at it as things can only get better.” I’m reminded of our first few months of marriage and how lost Bobby was without his parents.

  He overhears the young couple’s worry. “She’ll always be with you. You’ll never be alone.”

  Jonny pulls me aside. “I tried, Emma. He was hell-bent on his decision.”

  I smile at him. “It’s okay. If there’s anything I learned from all of this, it’s that we’re merely people just trying to do our best. Sometimes we mess up.”

  “It’ll be hard to leave this girl behind,” he says.

  I let this buffer me. “I know,” I say, but I’m surprisingly okay with the circumstances we find ourselves in. As long as we’re on the same side, I know we can tackle anything.

  We observe the girls admiring Elle’s dress, with its plunging lace neckline and thick layers of tulle. They look like sisters discussing flowers and vows and fairy-tale dreams. Jonny’s face is filled with pride, and he squeezes my shoulder. It’s a bittersweet afternoon marked by joy and sadness, and we put aside our problems to be there for our family. It’s no wonder we all fall asleep early.

  Monday arrives, and we rouse the girls awake. The groans are loud. Their blankets come up over their faces. I sit on Zoe’s bed and press my lips into her cheek. Her eyes are puffy from sleep.

  “Rise and shine, little ladies,” Bobby says. “We have to be at the State Attorney’s office in an hour.”

  “Said no normal parent ever,” grunts Lily. “Do I have to go, too?”

  “You’re going . . . we’re all going,” he says, nudging her to get out of bed. “We’re a family; we’re in this together.”

  “I can’t do this.” Zoe’s words echo across the room as she pushes her covers aside and abandons her bed.

  Bobby grabs her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Zoe. I promise.”

  She’s skeptical. She pulls away and storms off to the bathroom.

  Perhaps it’s misleading not to let her know what’s about to happen. It would ease her reluctance, give her some hope, but we don’t want to let her down either.

  In the car, Lily is playing Trivia Crack and screaming out questions for us to answer. Zoe is quiet. B
obby is flipping through the talk-radio stations, preoccupied. One hand grips the wheel with intention, the other settles on CNBC, and then my waiting palm.

  I squeeze his hand. He briefly turns to me, away from the highway in front of us. His eyes are covered by dark glasses, but his lips turn up in a faint smile. I love him. I love having him back.

  Stepping out of the car at the courthouse, Zoe makes one last attempt. “Daddy, please. It’s not going to change anything . . .”

  Lily concedes, “She’s right, Dad.”

  They’re dressed in their uniform khakis and the same orange top with Thatcher’s emblem. Whether it was by accident or choice that they chose the same color, their bond doesn’t come as a surprise.

  Bobby sidles up to the girls and places an arm across their shoulders. “Zoe, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  Her sullen face does anything but trust, and her pace slows. Lily, tough and insistent, pulls away, running ahead. Her long hair fights with the brisk wind, and soon she disappears behind the doors of the courthouse.

  Carla Rodriguez ushers us inside her office, where the Howards and Hudsons sit.

  “What are they doing here?” Zoe asks, staring at Grace.

  Lisa and I avoid eye contact, though I feel the energy burning off her body and smacking against my skin. Grace is pale and withdrawn, her hair a true dirty blonde. Tears have turned her nose red, and she stares at something near the window. She doesn’t look up when we take our seats.

  “I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Zoe whispers. Her eyes are frozen in question. Their silvery blue hits my cheek. Monica gives me a nervous smile. Price seems equally afraid.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Rodriguez begins, “and on such short notice. Under normal circumstances we would never subject the families to this type of meeting, but nothing about this case has been normal.”

  Jo Jo arrives, taking a seat behind us. “Sorry I’m late.” She’s lugging her bulky briefcase and bumps into me when she passes.

  Lisa’s hands are twisted together in tight fists. Her hair is down and unkempt, giving the impression she has given up. Today her sunglasses are large and dark, hiding her eyes and most of her face. Drew is pressed against his wife. One move and he might tip over. He appears less assured, and the uneasiness shrinks him in size.