If You Must Know

by Beck, Jamie

  For years, I’d told myself that doing good meant I was good. That doing better made me better. Yet looking back I can’t help but wonder if family dynamics, insecurities, and jealousies had warped me to the point where I no longer knew if I did things because I wanted to or because it was what pleased someone I loved. And if the latter, then what did that mean, and who was I, really? Was I someone with the courage to do what needed to be done when it wouldn’t please others—specifically my mother?

  I wouldn’t find the answers sitting here, but talking to my mother shouldn’t be this hard.

  Whatever happened next, I vowed my daughter wouldn’t need to “achieve” to get my attention. And she’d be able to talk to me about anything without punishment.

  Those promises made me feel better about facing the firing squad inside. I grabbed my suitcases from the back seat, forced a smile, and went through the garage. My mother was on the phone, but her expression stopped me in my tracks.

  Little mason jars covered the kitchen table, along with an open bag of sugar, some oils, and food dye. It stunned me that Erin involved our mother with Shakti Suds when she never let me help.

  “Dodo, I’ll call you later. Amanda just showed up.” She nodded with the receiver in hand. “Yes, I’ll be sure to tell her, and I promise we’ll reschedule the baby shower when things settle down. Bye.” She hung up and sighed. “I told Dodo about the divorce before she heard about it from someone else. At least I won’t have to host her for three days now that we’ve canceled the baby shower. She sends her love.”

  “Mm. That’s all she had to say?” I knew Aunt Dodo had opinions about me, Lyle, and divorce. Her judgmental nature had never annoyed me as much as it did Erin, probably because most of the time Aunt Dodo respected me and my choices.

  “She wondered what was so irreconcilable that you couldn’t fix it. Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with my sister.” She set her hands on her hips. “Going somewhere?”

  I wished my mom hadn’t lied to her sister, but arguing about that right now wouldn’t pave the way for me to move in.

  I pushed the luggage aside. “I can’t stand my house. Everything there reminds me of Lyle, except it’s all different now—twisted and ugly. Lonely. I thought I’d feel better here with you and Erin. But if I’ll be in the way . . .”

  “Don’t be silly. Stay . . . although, if memory serves, sharing a room with your sister won’t be relaxing.”

  Now that Kevin’s old room was a dedicated office—cluttered with a desk and file cabinets—it wasn’t an option for me. But oddly, I didn’t mind.

  “Don’t say that. Besides”—I gestured to the mess—“it looks like you two are getting along. Are you helping her with her business?”

  “She’s pretending to do me the favor of keeping me busy, but secretly I think she knows she needs the help. It is a little relaxing to work with aromas for the sugar scrubs.” She had a slight sparkle in her eye, and I was surprised that Erin had stealthily diverted our mother from grief. Perhaps I never gave my sister enough credit.

  “Let’s get you settled.” Mom went to lift one of my suitcases. “So far Becky hasn’t asked questions, but seeing your car here every day could raise some. And before you get upset about the irreconcilable-differences cover, remember it’s the truth. After all, you can’t reconcile with a thief. Months from now, when the divorce is final and we’ve settled things with Lyle, you’ll be grateful that you didn’t blab. Trust me, honey, never give people a reason to whisper about you at the grocery store or neighborhood party. It’s nobody’s business what goes on in this family.”

  I understood—empathized, even—with the desire to craft a palatable version of the truth. Her past aside, pride was a strong motivator, and marital affairs did inspire feeding frenzies among my colleagues and others. Yet if we kept telling half truths, we’d never create an environment that encouraged—embraced—the actual truth. But announcing my decision could wait until Erin arrived, because I wanted to have the conversation only once.

  “Voilà.” Mom grimaced as we entered the small bedroom carpeted with used towels and discarded clothes. “Some things haven’t changed.”

  One only had to visit Erin’s old apartment to know that much. “Do you think she’ll mind the invasion?”

  “It’s my house, Amanda. Even if she minds, she won’t argue.”

  That didn’t make me feel better.

  “Thank you for letting me stay.” I held my belly when I bent over with a grunt to pick up some of my sister’s things off the ground. “Where is Erin, anyway?”

  “Walking Mo.” Mom heaved both suitcases onto the small bed. “I’ll let you settle in while I clean up the kitchen.”

  “What’s for dinner?”

  Mom shrugged, smiling at me in that worried way she did when one of her kids was hurting. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

  We could do better than canned soup.

  “Let me cook something. When I finish here, I’ll see what you’ve got on hand and maybe run to the store. Now that I’m home, my appetite should return.” When I kissed my mom’s cheek, she gave me a hug and pat on the back. My fingers and toes prickled back to life as numbness faded.

  “Suit yourself.” She smiled and left me alone.

  I hadn’t slept in this room since graduating from college twelve years ago. It hadn’t changed. Same white eyelet curtains. Same creaky dresser. Same scent of dusty old papers and aging vanilla candles.

  Before I unpacked, I tossed Erin’s discarded socks and dirty clothes in the hamper, then folded the few things that appeared to have been tried on and rejected, setting those items on her bed. We’d had epic throw-downs about this space, like the time she sneaked my new bikini to wear to the beach and then put it back damp and sandy. But having now shown up without invitation, I’d sit on my impulse to complain. Maybe this time around we could be better roommates and make the connection we’d failed to find as children.

  While I was stowing my empty suitcases beneath my bed, Erin returned. From the muffled conversation in the other room, I assumed they were discussing my arrival.

  Bracing myself, I went into the kitchen to make myself useful. The baking supplies I’d brought this morning sat unused, reminding me of all that had happened today. On the upside, cookies for dinner would be my plan B.

  Mo jumped up on my legs, eager for love like me, so I smothered him with friendly petting. “Hey, Mo. Are you happy to see me again?”

  I glanced up at my sister, awaiting an answer from the person of whom I’d actually been asking that question.

  “I’ll say this . . .” She smirked, a half smile in place. “Life’s been interesting lately.”

  That much was clear. Less clear was whether she wanted me there.

  “What do you think?” Mom held an open jar up to Erin’s nose. “I call it Peppermint Pop.”

  Erin failed to stifle a grimace. “It’s a little strong, like an Altoid.”

  “I like Altoids.” Mom took her little box of jars. “These will be for me, then.”

  “Good initiative, though.” Erin rubbed Mom’s shoulder.

  Oddly, I felt like an intruder. “Before we get all cozy, I’ve got more news to share. You might want to sit down first.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” My mom pressed one hand to her temple and took a seat. Erin simply crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. I might’ve unpacked prematurely, because Mom could freak out once she learned all my plans.

  “I told Lyle’s father about Willa.” I raised my hands to stanch oncoming criticism.

  My mother slapped her cheeks and gave some anyway. “Oh, honey. You don’t even know the man. Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. Willa needs a man in her life. Kevin’s busy in Baltimore with his career and family. Uncle Bob’s got his own grandkids. Stan checked up on Richard—that’s his name—and he’s a decent, lonely man. He was lovely about it. Even offered to help wi
th child support after he learned about what Lyle has done.”

  “You told him everything?” My mother pounded on the table before standing to pace, casting me furious glances. “What if he warns Lyle?”

  “Mom, take a breath,” Erin began, leading me to believe she supported my decision. Then she asked me, “Do you trust him?”

  Her expression suggested she did not.

  “They haven’t spoken in more than three years. If push came to shove, I trust him to put Willa’s needs ahead of Lyle’s.” Strangely, I smiled at the affirmation that Lyle hadn’t completely killed my ability to trust someone—or at least not someone I’d had checked out by a PI.

  “All righty, then,” Erin said with a nod.

  Mom cast her an irritated glance while muttering, “At least he’s in Michigan. And he shouldn’t want to spread the word about his son’s criminal behavior any more than we do.” She rubbed her temples so forcefully they might bruise. “But what good can come of inviting a stranger into our lives? That man raised Lyle, and look how he turned out. What makes you think he’ll be a good influence on Willa?”

  As a teacher, I’d seen good parents with troubled kids and troubled parents with wonderful kids. “Don’t blame Richard. Lyle was born manipulative and made worse by a mother who enabled his entitled narcissism. I can’t see the future, but we have to do what’s right.”

  Erin smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

  I narrowed my gaze, searching for hints of sarcasm. “You make it sound like I don’t usually do the right thing.”

  “But this time you didn’t wait for approval. Maybe that’s the silver lining in this whole situation.” She opened the refrigerator, grabbed the OJ, and finished it straight from the bottle. Her chipper mood didn’t make that compliment less backhanded.

  “What’s that mean?” I asked.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t usually do things without a consensus, but now you’re making your own decisions, for better or worse. Backbone is a good thing.”

  “Meaning I’m normally weak?”

  Erin grimaced. “‘Weak’ is harsh. Let’s go with ‘indecisive.’”

  The fact that my mother failed to jump in or roll her eyes suggested my new “backbone” rattled her.

  Was that how everyone saw me—a weak and indecisive person rather than a conscientious and cautious one? “It’s hurtful when you paint me that way, you know.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Amanda. You and Mom are always pointing out things you’d like to change about me. Don’t live in a glass house. Can’t we learn to say what we feel and be okay with it? Otherwise this new living arrangement will result in one of us ending up in jail before Lyle.”

  She had a point.

  Time to go all in and drop the next bombshell. “Well, if that’s how you feel, you’ll be thrilled to hear what else I’ve decided.”

  “Oh bother,” my mother moaned, hanging her head. “What now?”

  “Mom, keep an open mind. Stan found a legal way to get the boat. It’s called an OIA operation—an otherwise illegal activity. Basically, the FBI can deputize me to help carry out a sting.” I then explained the details as I understood them. “Obviously, it won’t settle custody or give me control over my house, but if successful, we’d get the boat to sell, so you’d get paid back quickly. Plus Lyle will get a real comeuppance, and if Ebba’s an accomplice, she’ll land in jail, too. This is our best chance for real justice.”

  My mother covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “So you don’t care if our family loses all respect, or that your father’s name will be remembered this way? You’d have Willa’s life begin under a cloud of salacious gossip, and make me face the children I’ve taught and their kids, and my neighbors, as an idiot? I can’t bear it, Amanda. Please. Don’t make me uproot my life at sixty-two.”

  “Mom, it’s terrifying and difficult, but it’s not about only us. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I told you, if I confront Lyle with no backup, he’ll probably laugh in my face and take off. So in the bigger scheme of things, this is our best chance of getting you your money back and of keeping Lyle from hurting another woman.”

  “This is a mistake you can’t undo. It will take on a life of its own, and with the internet, it will never die!” Mom looked up, wild-eyed. I stood, arrested by her accusatory gaze, unaccustomed to being the disappointing child. Was this how Erin felt all the time? I guessed I ought to get used to it, because I had to have a “backbone” for Willa. She begged, “Let’s try it ourselves, and then, if we fail, we go to the cops—”

  Erin interrupted. “If you do that, Lyle has time to get away. Worse, if the authorities do catch up to him, he could squeal on Amanda for extortion.”

  “Damn it! Damn all of it.” Mom waved her fists around before grabbing her car keys from the hook.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Somewhere to think.” She glared at us both, although Erin brushed off Mom’s outrage like she’d shoo a mosquito.

  “Mom!” I called as she slammed the door to the garage in our faces. I whirled on Erin. “Should we stop her?”

  “Nah.” She inspected the bananas before choosing one to peel, calm as ever. “I don’t want to give her the chance to wear down your resolve. You’ve made the right call. I can’t wait to see Lyle’s smug face when the cops raid his boat.”

  “Mom’s not all wrong. This might not work out the way we hope. Kevin and Stan haven’t gotten back to me yet about if the FBI will take this case and do the OIA. If not, we end up with all the negative publicity and none of the upside. Mom will never forgive me.”

  “I bet they’ll go for the sting. If you can get a confession, it makes their case a slam dunk.” Erin tossed the peel in the trash. “I know it’s hard, but it’s okay to stand up to Mom. Somewhere Dad is cheering.”

  That perked me up, having rarely been the one to surprise Dad with an act of courage. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” She gave me a brief hug.

  “Thanks for being supportive, and for not grousing about my moving in. I know it isn’t what you expected when you agreed to keep an eye on Mom.”

  “You won’t hear me complain about a free maid.” She winked. “Seriously, it’s good for us to hunker down together until things with Lyle get settled.”

  “Who would’ve thought we’d both be home again?”

  The corners of her mouth drooped with her shoulders. “Fair warning, living here will make you miss Dad more. I ‘see’ him everywhere. On the other hand, Mom and I are getting along better.”

  “Well, looks like I might need your help with her.”

  “A role reversal!” She chuckled.

  Wasn’t it just. “If only Dad were here, maybe I’d get to be his favorite for a day.”

  Erin’s grin faded. “I know you think Dad loved me best, but that’s not true. We liked the same music and shared inside jokes, and he enjoyed my traits that made you and Mom uncomfortable, but he loved you and Kevin as much as me. Sometimes I think he went easy on me because the rest of you always cringed at my differences.”

  The impact of her words hit me from all angles, knocking my knees out from under me. “Did you . . . did you think I didn’t like you?”

  My head spun from the very idea because, for my whole life, I’d thought it the other way around.

  “Don’t start feeling guilty. I know deep down you and Mom love me even though I embarrass you.” She flashed an impish smile, but if she believed what she was saying, it had to hurt.

  “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. All I ever wanted was to be close. I tried so hard to get you to want to play with me, but you always ran off.”

  “I ran from your dolls and games like ‘house.’” She crossed her arms. “Besides, if I’d brought you along to break all the rules, you’d have tattled.”

  “Only if you were doing something unsafe.” Those words came out defensively—so much so that I had to laugh at myself. “Oh gos
h. No wonder you ran.”

  Erin smiled with that same twinkle in her eye that Dad had. For the first time in weeks, my chest felt warm and fuzzy.

  I grabbed my sister into another hug and squeezed tight. “I feel like we’re finally coming to understand and count on each other. It means so much to me.”

  “Same here.” She patted my back but eased away, averting her eyes. “Anyway, I’m heading out with Lexi for open-mic night at the Lamplight. Her boyfriend is singing, so she wants to stack the audience with fans.”

  I would’ve declined an invitation to join her in favor of making amends with Mom, but on the heels of our breakthrough, it would’ve been nice to have been asked. Then again, my giant belly didn’t scream “bar buddy.” “Have fun.”

  Erin affected a mock bow before exiting the kitchen.

  Leaving me alone. Again.

  I guessed Mom had gone to Dad’s grave. Even a year later, she still turned to him when she got upset. Habits of a nearly forty-year marriage must be hard to break. One benefit of getting out of mine early would be learning to turn inward for answers. It wouldn’t be an easy shift, but Willa needed me to be tougher by the time she arrived.

  For now, I’d make one of my mom’s favorite meals. As I opened the refrigerator door, a loud whoop rang out from the bedroom, followed by a hearty “It’s like old times!”

  In every way, my sister was coming through for me. Never in all these years had it occurred to me that my behavior had driven some of hers. She’d hidden her self-doubt so well I hadn’t thought anything I did or said ever mattered to her. Our little talk had been a good start at being more honest.

  With no more secrets and unspoken grievances between us, maybe now my sister and I would finally become friends.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ERIN

  Apparently Mom’s earlier “thinking” had resulted in a decision to answer Amanda’s questions with yes/no answers, period.

  My sister had to regret moving home at the exact time she finally stood up to Mom. Being surrounded by bad juju in that empty house across town must’ve been unbearable for her to willingly suffer this wrath. Mom’s mood aside, we had to make it work because Amanda and Willa belonged with us.