My eyes misted over as I pondered a way to tell Rita her father was gone.
With the car in park, I stared at the front of the two-story house, directing my gaze at the large picture window. Inside I could see straight into the kitchen, where Rosalie stood leaning her back against the counter, animatedly waving her arms, and Rita stood across from her, nearly doubled over with laughter as she held a wooden spoon in her hand. She straightened up, began stirring something on the stove, and added her own comments to Rosalie’s, after which Rosalie shook her head and wiped her eyes. Without a doubt, they had made it into an easy friendship, and it troubled me to see it.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I closed the car door as quietly as I could and stepped toward the front porch, mentally preparing myself. It seemed an affront to the senses to witness such giddiness in the face of the sorrow I was feeling, but I suppose that’s the very nature of loss. The fact that the world keeps on turning makes it even harder to get past the grief.
The front door made no noise as I opened it, and the two of them were too involved in their conversation to notice the additional person in the room, so I tiptoed over to the couch and witnessed the inappropriate friendship in all its glory.
“…and just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, his daughter walked around the corner and tripped over the upended rug. She slammed into this vase in the corner, and it flew into the wall. There were broken pieces of pottery everywhere.”
“Oh, Rosalie.” Rita laughed, letting out a sigh. “Was Elliott angry?”
“No, are you kidding? He couldn’t catch a sight of breath, he was chuckling so hard. And I was just standing there, red-faced and practically humiliated. You want to know what went plowing through my head at that moment? I thought to myself, ‘This seems like something Camdyn would do.’”
The sound of my name hit me like a brick to the stomach, and I cleared my throat as I stared at them, unaffected by their laughter.
“Camdyn, when did you sneak in, honey?” Rosalie wanted to know as she wiped her hands on her apron, attempting to calm her breathing. “We were just talking about a little incident I had the other night...”
“With Elliott,” I finished, not moving forward to join them. “I heard.”
More chuckling erupted, and Rita turned toward the stove again so she wasn’t looking at me. “Well, are you looking for food? Rita and I are trying out some new recipes today.”
“No, I’m not hungry,” I stated simply.
“Something troubling you?” Rosalie wondered then, fully looking at me and moving a couple steps in my direction. “You look like you’ve been upset.”
“I’m not really having a stellar day,” I admitted, placing my hand along the back of the couch. Moving further into the kitchen didn’t feel like a great idea, and Rita wasn’t making any advances in my direction.
“Are you sick? Honey, you should have called. You need me, I’ll be over there in a jiffy.” Rosalie had made it all the way to my side by that point, and she placed her hand on my shoulder as she stared into my eyes. “What is it, sweetheart? Something happen with the press? One of those TV people making fun of you? Did you get into it with your publisher?”
I wish it was something so ridiculous and simple.
“No, it has nothing to do with me,” I let her know, “not really. Grandpa Charlie…” I paused to see if the name elicited a response from Rita, but other than a slight turn of her ear in our direction – nothing.
“What is it?” Rosalie pushed harder, staring into my eyes. The affection I saw there chipped away at my stony resolve, and I felt a tear escaping my eye before I had time to ponder a reaction.
“Grandpa Charlie passed away this morning.” In the same manner Cole had responded when I initially received the news, Rosalie didn’t offer any words of comfort, but simply pulled me into her arms. Unable to control my sadness, I let the grief pour out as I let my forehead rest on her shoulder, soaking up the security of knowing I was loved. It was only after I considered the affection Rosalie was showing that I realized the absurdity of the situation.
What kind of mother would stand by like a statue witnessing her daughter’s pain, and what kind of daughter would simply be stirring some gelatinous glob on the stove when she just received the news that her father had died? Even as Rosalie rubbed her hand against my back in an attempt to soothe, my blood began to boil deep inside, threatening to erupt and spew forth revulsion and loathing and disgust.
In that moment, quite honestly, I despised Rita.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Rosalie finally said, releasing my shoulders.
“I know,” I choked out, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Do you need anything? Anything at all?”
“No.” I smoothed the front of my t-shirt and wiped my eye, noting that the skin around my eyelashes was starting to feel raw. I gingerly touched it and then looked at my fingers, although what I expected to see I’m not quite sure.
“Okay, well, you call me if you decide you need something,” she insisted. I nodded, and then I glanced at Rita. Rosalie said nothing, but I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t look as angry as I felt.
“Rita,” I stated forcefully enough that she turned to look in my direction. “Did you hear me? Grandpa Charlie died today. He’s gone.”
Blinking twice, she narrowed her eyes a bit as her forehead furrowed slightly. “I heard you. Thank you.”
Coarse laughter roared up from deep inside my chest, and I shook my head as I stared at that woman, who appeared completely devoid of any proper human emotion. To my credit, rather than spout any of the things I was feeling, I turned and walked out the front door, not even bothering to close the door since I sensed Rosalie’s presence behind me. She followed me to the car, and waited while I stood next to the driver’s side door, staring out into the trees as the rain continued to fall in sprinkles and drips rather than a steady stream.
“She’s in shock,” Rosalie offered.
“Don’t defend her,” I ordered, turning to look in her eyes. “She is a horrible human being, and is completely incapable of feeling like a person should. I can see that now, so why can’t you?”
“Because she’s a lost soul, and she’s hurting. She needs someone to show her a little love.”
Inwardly seething, I pulled open the door and sat down, placing my hands on the wheel. Rosalie remained in her position, and I drew one fist up against my forehead, trying to will the images of the last couple minutes out of my mind. Still they replayed in front of my eyes, like a bad dream.
“I guess it’s a good thing she has you, then,” I stated sardonically, finally opening my eyes and turning the key in the ignition. I started to grab the handle to pull the door shut, but Rosalie stepped in the way, not finished with our conversation.
“I’m not the one she needs,” she added quietly. It took all the strength I possessed not to scream at the woman who had been so kind to me only moments before, but I managed to give her a small smile before I put the car in reverse.
“Maybe not,” I replied, “but at the moment, you’re the one who doesn’t hate her.”
Chapter Thirteen
Two days later I found myself staring out the window of a Boeing MD-88 while my incredibly handsome husband sat sandwiched between his increasingly bitter wife and her cold heartless shell of a parental unit. Rosalie had called me three times begging me to give Rita the benefit of the doubt, but I insisted that she didn’t deserve it. I had gone through the painful steps of forgiving her for what she had done to Charlie and me, but I couldn’t forgive her cold response to Grandpa’s death.
I wouldn’t forgive that, no matter how Rosalie pleaded.
Rita wound up surprising me, though, because she wanted to go to the funeral. I had believed that the reason she wanted to go back to Philadelphia in the first place was to reconnect with Grandpa Charlie, but when Rosalie told me she would be accompanying us on the flight, I had to rethink all my previ
ous conclusions. Whether it was seeing her sister Meg that she desired, or meeting Hannah, or finding closure…
Well, what difference did it make, really? That’s precisely what I told Rosalie, too, when I told her that Rita would be accompanying me on a flight over my dead body.
Naturally, being the bleeding heart that she was, Rosalie decided to appeal to Cole’s better nature by giving him some sob story about Rita being in denial and closing herself off. Blah, blah, blah. Just another pretty tale about that beautiful basket case that once suggested that I call her mother.
Shudder.
And Cole…
Cole really was starting to feel a bit like a saint, and in the past couple of days it had made me angrier than I cared to admit. He was supposed to be devoted to me, heart and soul. He should have been upset at Rita’s reaction and backing me up one-hundred percent. Instead, he kept taking Rosalie’s calls and having these “heart-to-heart” conversations with me about being the bigger person, and understanding Rita’s mental state, and if he hadn’t employed the habit of showcasing that killer smile I might have decked him a couple of times. Even sitting there on that plane all pressed against him like a sardine in a can, part of me longed to punish him due to the simple fact that, pressed against him on the other side, there sat a woman who was obviously my maternal missing link. Anyone walking by could see that was the case.
So, rather than look in their direction and risk blowing up like Mount Vesuvius during the flight, I chose to gaze out the window. Cole rested his hand protectively on my knee, and I pretended that I was alone.
“Would you folks like a drink?” I heard a voice in the aisle, and the familiar rattle of the drink cart.
“Perhaps a juice,” Rita answered politely.
“Traveling with your daughter today? It’s nice to see families flying together.”
“Yes,” was the succinct answer. My palms began to sweat at the force of squeezing my hands together between my knees, and Cole slid his arm around me and pulled me to him.
“A couple of waters, please,” Cole added. As soon as our company had passed to the next row, Cole bent his head toward my ear.
“Camdyn,” he whispered, barely audible as his breath moved through my hair. “I can’t bear to see you hurting. Please, sweetheart, let me help you carry this.”
“I don’t need you to,” I muttered, continuing to stare out the window.
“I need to,” he added so quietly that I was having to concentrate completely on his words. “Don’t you understand? I need to protect you, Cam. I need you to need me.”
“I do.” Turning, I stared directly into his eyes. “I do.” Afraid to say anything else, I snuggled into his arms and remained silent the rest of the flight.
-§-
We didn’t arrive early enough to visit anyone, so we shared a very uncomfortable cab ride with Rita and managed an early check-in at our hotel. When we were alone in our room, I changed into a black shift dress that barely slid over my slightly protruding abdomen. I really hadn’t realized how much my body had changed, but the problem wasn’t simply my stomach – in the unforgiving dress, my chest had also become an issue. Standing with my hands against the door frame of the bathroom, Cole attempted to zip my dress while I felt a bit like Scarlett O’Hara having my corset ribbons pulled. Finally, he released his hands and said he was finished, although the pressure against the length of my body hadn’t relented. Looking down at my frame, I widened my eyes.
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I feel like I swallowed a cantaloupe.”
“You look like it too,” he laughed. “And I don’t mean that as an insult. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not sure I can breathe,” I stated wearily, walking over to the bed. I tried to lower myself down twice, but both times the fabric prohibited me from bending, so I remained standing.
“Did you bring another dress?”
“No. I haven’t gained any weight, so I imagined my dress would still fit. Nothing else has been too tight, really. Well, except my jeans, and that pencil skirt I tried to wear to church Sunday, and that one pair of plaid board shorts that I wanted to wear last Thursday…”
“You are so stunning,” he interrupted, stepping toward me and placing his palms on either side of my stomach. “Do you want me to loosen the dress a little so you can breathe?” He twisted his mouth to one side while that eyebrow rose in a familiar teasing fashion, and I knew immediately what he was up to.
“Are you kidding? I would never get it back on. The minute it comes off, it’s finished.”
“You’re no fun,” he teased, wrapping his arms around me. I allowed myself to completely relax against him and forgot about that zipper pressing into my spine momentarily.
“You’re my rock, you know that?” I asked him. “You’re the one who makes everything okay, even when it’s not. I’m sorry for the last couple of days. I know I’ve been a little…testy.”
“With good reason.”
“That’s no excuse,” I argued. “I love you so much. Don’t you just want to shake me sometimes?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt the baby.” Leaning back, I stared up at his face, and he grinned mischievously. “I love you too, even when you’re exasperating. Sometimes a little more when you’re exasperating, although I hesitate to tell you that for fear you’ll act out more often.”
“Act out?”
“I’m teasing you.” He smiled before his lips softly met mine. A knock at the door made me jerk back, but Cole pulled me against him and kissed me more eagerly. Attempting to slide away, I managed to get far enough from him that he moaned and gave me a very disappointed smirk.
“Sorry,” I stated as I stepped to the door and swung it open. On the other side of that door stood Charlie, looking very handsome in his suit and tie, but I barely had time to take him in before he had me in his arms. The thought crossed my mind that I had two very solid rocks in Charlie and Cole, and I suddenly felt very grateful.
“You’re getting fat,” Charlie blurted as he hugged me.
“Oh my goodness, I have to see this!” Trina exclaimed. “Move it, Charlie, please! The suspense is killing me.”
Charlie stepped back, and Trina stepped up to greet me, holding Cooper on her hip. The little guy was getting so big, he was actually looking at me and staring into my face rather than squinting up his eyes and whimpering. The thought of how quickly time passed threatened to make me emotional again, but I fought it by noticing Trina’s straight shiny brown hair and her elegant gray lace dress.
“You look so perfect, Trina,” I commented, sighing a bit. Cooper’s little head had a newsboy cap perched upon it, and he had on a little vest and tie. He looked like he belonged in some sort of baby clothing catalog.
“You’re so tiny,” Trina complained. “How are you so tiny? Look at that little bump. She’s not fat, Charlie, you can barely even tell she’s pregnant.”
“My dress doesn’t agree with you,” I stated with a laugh. “Oh, Trina, I’ve missed you. Move next door to us and be our neighbors? Please, I’m begging you.”
“Oh, Cammie, as though I would live in the middle of nowhere.” She stepped forward and embraced me, pressing little Cooper against me in the process. I could feel the soft smoothness of his skin against my cheek.
“Where’s the BM?” Charlie wanted to know. Cole gave me a quizzical look. Clearly we had never used our childhood nickname for my mother before in his presence. I sensed that an explanation would be necessary at a later time.
“She’s in her own room,” I informed him, brushing away the comment as though it were a pesky fly. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Rita, after all.
“We should probably go,” Cole hesitantly interrupted, giving me a wary smile. I walked to the suitcase and pulled out my four-inch shiny black heels, content that at least there was one part of my wardrobe that still fit correctly. Maybe by some miracle that pa
tient at Dr. McCavin’s office had been incorrect about the shoes. Or, even more miraculously, maybe the shoe problem was in fact valid, but skipped me entirely.
We stepped out into the stifling summer air, the heat of the day feeling almost oppressive in the direct sunlight. Cole walked three doors down to retrieve Rita, who stepped out of her room looking regal, unaffected, and the spitting image of me. She had on a dress that looked almost exactly like mine, and with her blonde waves bouncing across her shoulders, the resemblance was unmistakable. Inwardly I cringed, and Charlie coughed around a lump that had formed in his throat.
Rita and her nonchalant attitude – she might as well be attending a cocktail party.
“Hello, Charlie,” she stated quietly, nodding at Trina but not greeting her by name. For all I knew, she had no idea what Trina’s name was.
“Rita,” Charlie mumbled, definitely uncomfortable. For a moment I had forgotten that he hadn’t been seeing Rita bounce in and out of his life on a day to day basis. For him, it was as though she had still been halfway across the world.
Cole’s intention was to call a cab, but Charlie had rented a car, so the six of us piled inside. Somehow Trina finagled her way into the front seat in between the boys, and Rita and I ended up on either side of Cooper’s car seat in the back. It was just as well, because I’m not sure I could have sat politely next to my brother. As it was, I entered the car in a partway horizontal position, because I simply couldn’t bend at the waist.
The more I thought about that fact, the more potentially problematic it seemed in my mind.
The drive to the church didn’t take long, and Charlie seemed to know where he was going. Cole and my brother had a witty baseball dialogue going in the front of the car, with Trina inserting sarcastic comments every couple of moments. In the back, it was silent as a tomb. Rita wasn’t talking at all, and since I had no interest in conversing with her, both of us stared out the window. Cooper didn’t have much to add either, because his head had lolled to the side and he was snoozing away.
For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4) Page 17
