“I bet you’ll be happy when October comes and goes.” I smile and gather the pages together and turn them face down on the coffee table.
Brandon sits down and positions Dixie on his lap, where she proceeds to chew on her pink bone. “She’s just excited. I get it. I mean, she’s marrying me.” He points to himself and makes a goofy face.
I laugh and recline into the soft, cozy couch. We need one of these at Steve’s… “You’ve been good for her. I’m excited for both of you.”
“Thanks. It’s been a lot of change, and now it looks like we’re going to have a baby very soon after the wedding. But do not tell Claire. I’m still working out the details, but I was approached about a private adoption. I don’t want to tell Claire until I’m sure I can work out the legal terms.”
I am squealing with delight and then shush myself. “Oh, Brandon, she will be so happy!” I am not one to cry, but my eyes almost mist up at the thought of Claire with a little family.
“So, how are things going with your man?”
I give Brandon a quick summary of my experiences in the house thus far, an abridged and edited version of my fears, and end with my confusion. I leave out the Luke issue, and our dismal sex life.
Brandon runs his fingers through his hair. “Wow, that’s a lot to deal with.” He sighs and continues, “Claire was very unsure about me in the beginning. You know how she felt. Younger guy, can’t have kids, the divorce. But she took a chance and found out that what she assumed was incorrect. Finding out I was adopted still didn’t help her put two and two together, but she eventually got the message that I wanted to adopt a family. And guess how she finally found out?”
“I know, you talked about it. And yes, she was dragged kicking and screaming to that talk. It’s a good thing you were patient.”
“Isn’t Steve patient?” He crosses his arms and Dixie jumps down to retrieve the bone she just dropped off the couch.
I look down and say quietly, “He is. It’s just so…”
“I agree it sucks, but he’s probably just as confused as you are. If Claire died, I’m sure I would want to be with someone else at some point, but I would be a mess. What are the rules? There’s no statute of limitations on grief. I bet the reasons he hasn’t cleaned out that house are not what you think, and everything could magically change overnight if you just bring up your concerns.”
“You’re very wise for a cute kid who STILL isn’t thirty, but I don’t believe in magic.”
Claire enters the room, all perfectly coifed and made up, looking adorable and bridal in her soft pink flowered sundress and low heeled cream sandals.
“Magic happens every day, Rebecca. Look at my little bride.” Brandon grabs Claire in a bear hug and lifts her off the ground.
I smile at their cuteness, but blurt out, “You two could gag a maggot.”
Everyone cracks up as Claire gathers up her wedding paraphernalia and starts loading up her bridal planning suitcase.
“Did you look at any of these?” She asks Brandon and gestures to the wad of dress photos.
“You told me not to.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, Honey. I’ll leave you alone and let you go back downstairs. Record a hit single and launch us to fame and fortune? Write the next bestseller?” She taunts her talented fiancé, but I know she’s proud of him.
“Yes, Ma’am. You girls should get going.” He wisely ignores her barbs. He’s going to make a great husband.
“We’ll talk about the dresses in the car, and I’m driving.” I stand up and smooth my skirt. I feel fat compared to Claire in my slate blue sundress with white swirls. “Oh, and by the way, you’re wearing practical shoes?”
“My groom isn’t very tall so I wanted to wear the same heel height I’ll wear at the wedding to try on dresses.” She looks at me as if to say “duh?” “And I’m driving, I want to get there in one piece and you still need to look at the dresses.”
“Very funny. Okay, I hope I have my reading glasses. I won’t be able to see anything without them, and I keep losing them. I need one of those old lady cords that the librarians use.” I sigh and say, “I swear I can’t keep up this façade of youth. Pretty soon I’ll be walking around with lipstick all over my teeth.”
“At least you have the boobs to make a shelf to rest the glasses on. That’s a good look.” Claire reaches for her lips and gasps. “I forget to put on lipstick!” Brandon rolls his eyes in mock horror, as she rummages through her huge bag to find a suitable shade. “Whew, here we go.” She accurately applies the pale pink color without a mirror.
“Hey, give me some of that. I want to tone down this purple. It’s so dark.” Claire hands me the tube and I start applying it, probably not as skillfully as Claire.
“Wow, you girls share lipstick? Isn’t that bad hygiene?” Brandon smirks and dodges Claire’s latest smack.
“It’s just a lipstick. We don’t have herpes and it isn’t like you stick lipstick up your ass.”
“My future bride, everyone. She makes me so proud.” Brandon kisses Claire on the head and says, “She’s going to get all of that language out of her system before she becomes a mother, right?”
“Obviously, my truck driver days are over as soon as I get a little bundle of baby in my arms.” Brandon and I share a knowing glance while Claire glows with hope and anticipation.
“Okay, we need to get going. Violet is meeting us there, and your mother and sister, right?”
“Thank God you’re going, Rebecca. Claire’s mom and sister don’t share Claire’s fashion sense, at least according to her.”
“We’ll see you on Monday for the kayaking trip. I’m so glad you convinced Claire to go.”
“Don’t remind me. I am wearing at least two life vests.” Claire shudders and walks towards the front door.
Brandon turns to me and says, “She can’t swim, but I’ll be there to protect her. The water is so calm right now, and in most places it isn’t deep enough to drown Dixie.” He immediately recognizes his error and backtracks. “Not that we would ever let this precious baby do anything dangerous.” He picks Dixie up and hands her to Claire. “Kiss Mommy goodbye.” He flashes a smile that I’m sure gets him out of trouble the vast majority of the time.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“…and I can’t stand that shit about my home state. Is it a road or is it an island? In my day stupid crap like that would never pass for comedy. Teachers actually taught something in school. These kids today don’t know anything about…” My father has Steve’s ear and he isn’t showing signs of release any time soon.
Ryan laughs and asks me to come inside with him to help with the food. The adults (with the exception of my weird seafood avoiding brother), are having boiled lobster with corn and potatoes for our main course, but Ryan and the kids want burgers and hot dogs on the grill. At twelve and ten, Logan and Madeline still have little kid food tastes, much to their parents’ chagrin. They prefer a nasty hotdog of questionable ingredients to live Maine lobster, boiled and served with tender potatoes and succulent corn. Oh my, I am never going to lose weight. And now I am eyeing my brother-in-law’s beautiful cherry cobbler and my cherry-pistachio tea cakes. My mother brought her peach-almond upside down cake because my father hates cherries, and we must please the grumpy…
“Dad, I want my burger well done. Mrs. Potter says that we can get diseases from bad cows that aren’t cooked long enough.” My ten-year-old niece practices her ballet spins in the kitchen wearing a hot pink bikini and flip flops.
Ryan winks at me and says to his daughter, “Maddy, what do bad cows do? Talk back to their parents? Tip over their friends?”
Maddy screws up her face and tosses her unruly blond mane. “Daaaad, please.”
I attempt to stifle my smile, and say, “Maddy, do you even know what cow tipping is?”
“Of course, Aunt Becca. I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says as she swirls into the kitchen table and almost pulls the table cloth off while steadying herself. Sudde
n flashes of Claire careening into a guitar player enter my mind. Maybe it really is a blond thing.
Before Ryan can intervene in Maddy’s behavior, Logan comes flying into the room. “Maddy, come on. Let’s get in the pool.” My twelve-year-old nephew is carrying goggles, a towel, and what looks like scuba diving gear. For the pool?
“Okay. We’re going, Dad. Where’s Papa?” Maddy takes off her flip flops, wisely figuring out they are partially to blame for her mishap. Impractical shoes are usually the culprit.
Ryan points to the patio door while addressing the kids. “Papa is upstairs. Now go…the day’s going to be half over before you two hit the water.”
My little brother had the pool put in when he and his partner, Paul, moved to Richmond and bought the house five years ago. Rhode Islanders need to have their water nearby!
With the recent changes in the marriage laws in Virginia, Ryan and Paul have tied the knot. They were able to adopt Logan and Maddy privately as infants, but they are delighted to legalize their union and their family.
As the kids walk out the door, Maddy whispers, “Logan, do you know what cow tipping is?”
Logan playfully punches his sister in the arm and replies, “Yeah, it’s when cows go to a restaurant and give the waitress money for bringing their food.”
Maddy’s face gets red and she screams, “That is not true, Logan! I’m telling Papa you’re a big liar!” And off they go, racing towards the pool. Watching them makes me nostalgic for my youthful sibling days with Ryan. I am the elder by four years, though, so I got to do more of the teasing.
I peer out the patio door, and see Steve in the pool, leaning against the side of the shallow end, talking to my father. My mother appears to be yelling something from the patio table, gesturing and adjusting her wide brim hat, even though the umbrella is already keeping her out of the sun. This is only the second time Steve has been with my parents, and it is the inaugural visit with Ryan and his family.
Logan and Maddy jump into the pool, just a few feet from Steve. I wince in anticipation of his reaction to being soaked while enjoying his beer, but he just shakes the water off his body and proceeds to splash the screaming kids. Luke never had that level of patience with my niece and nephew. They were seven and five when we broke up, and they tried so hard to get him to play with them. Come to think of it, Luke spent little time with my family. I am daydreaming of getting in the pool myself when Ryan interrupts.
“So Becca, how are things? Steve seems nice. It’s about time you brought him around. Mom tells us that you’ve been spending a lot of time at his place?” Ryan begins kneading the chopped sirloin into small burgers for his children, tossing back the tendrils of curly black hair that keep grazing the top of his glasses.
Ryan and Steve both have thick hair and glasses, but Ryan’s look is messier in that artist sort of way. My younger brother also shares my natural hair color and smoky blue eyes. However, I don’t have his jaw. Ryan’s jaw is awe inspiring, or so I am told by Violet every time she sees the framed photos on my mantle. I keep reminding her that he’s gay. And now married. I really need to work on fixing her up with somebody.
I’m silent for way too long, avoiding Ryan’s question and all the many things I would like to share. I sigh and puff out my cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” He seasons the burgers and narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Tell your little brother. I’m old enough to be of some use now. I’m a sensitive, modern guy.”
“Oh, you’re an artist. We’re all sensitive.” I climb up on a stool at the breakfast bar and watch my brother grab the hotdogs from the refrigerator.
“Speaking of which, are you ever going to paint again? I know several galleries that would kill for some of your stuff. Where is all your art, anyway?” I put my head on the counter. “What? Is that a no?”
I glance up at my bewildered brother. “That’s not even in the realm of consideration right now.”
I share a quick summary of Steve’s house and the events of the past week.
Ryan rubs the stubble on his chin, and sits on the stool next to me. “I know it must be hard to be in the house and see all of her stuff, and you know you have to talk to him, but why are you so afraid of her? She’s not here anymore.” He narrows his eyes again and leans in, as if I am going to whisper my response.
“It’s your fault I’m afraid of ghosts. And death.”
“My fault?” he points at himself incredulously.
“Yes, don’t you remember all those ghost shows and movies you used to make me watch, especially when Mom and Dad were out playing cards at the Martelli’s house?” I peer at my brother, challenging him to deny his involvement in my paranormal phobia.
“Becca, you seriously don’t remember why you are really afraid of ghosts?” He raises his eyebrows and I squirm.
“What?” I pretend I am clueless.
“The house Mom grew up in? In Newport? Full of spooky happenings and things that go bump in the night?”
I drop my head and frown. “She did tell us a lot of stories, didn’t she? I don’t like to dwell on it. It’s easier to blame you.”
“Why, thank you. That’s what little brothers are for—whipping posts.” He smiles to cut the tension. “She really did scare the hell out of you with all of that, didn’t she? I always assumed she made it all up.”
“And who the hell tells their little kids that they grew up in a house that was in the family for generations, and this one died tragically and that one was a tortured soul? Oh my God, this is all Mom’s fault. I could just go out there and drown—”
“Woah, unclench your fists, Sis. Jeez. She’s an old lady. I think she thought it was interesting, but she should have stuck to the Disney fairy tales. She was more of a Grimm’s version mom.” He squeezes my hand again. “Wasn’t there something about her seeing people standing at the end of her bed?”
“Yes, and one time she felt like someone was pulling her out of bed. The toilets flushed when no one else was home.” I tremble at the recollection.
“You would remember the details better, since I was younger. There was a time when she stopped, right?”
“It was after Dad told her to stop feeding us that ‘ghost malarkey,’ but I think his main concern was getting sleep. I started having nightmares where I woke up screaming every night.”
“I don’t remember that, but I slept through smoke alarms when I was a little boy.” He smiles again and says, “Becca, she did a number on your head, but she didn’t mean to. She wasn’t scared and I think she thought she had some fascinating tales to share with us. Some people actually like ghost stories. I just can’t believe the fear has stayed with you all of these years.”
“Well, it has.” I play with the string on my bathing suit and add in a hushed tone, “What if we get married and when we all get to heaven, he goes back to her?”
Ryan stares at me and his mouth hangs open. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He gets and up pulls me in for a hug. “We’re not the most religious family, so I don’t even know if I believe in heaven. And even if we believe, we have no idea what happens there, but I doubt there’s dating and marriage in heaven. I’d like to think we will rise above all of that as a reward for making it through this life.”
He pulls back and forces me to look at him. In his smoky blue eyes I see the little guy who begged to stay up late and brought frogs in the house. “I could say I believe I can fly, but that doesn’t mean I can. We’re not working with any facts here, and you’re getting yourself all worked up and freaked out. Believing doesn’t make it real.”
“What you’re saying is logical, but it just feels like I’m a substitute and it’s really her he wants to be with. Why else would he still have all of her things, and display all of the pictures?”
“I don’t know. We’ve never been through that type of loss so it’s hard to say.” Ryan stands and glances out the patio door at the pool area. “I see a guy who seems pretty happy and well-adjusted. Right now he i
s in the pool playing with my kids, and laughing at something our nutty mother is telling him.” He turns around and says, “Did you ever think maybe he feels guilty for living? For being happy? You’re just looking at it from a fearful, jealous perspective. I think there’s more to it. If you’re going to try to make a life with this man, you need to transcend all of that. You were always miss ‘free spirit,’ not settling down, no maternal instinct. At least you’ve hung up your cougar status.” Ryan grabs the food and the utensils and puts all of it on a tray.
“It’s funny that you mention cougars. Guess who’s—”
“Honey, you still haven’t put the food on for the kids?” Paul appears in the kitchen, shrieking as if the kids may die of starvation. “All the other food is almost done.” He composes himself and turns to me. “Hi Rebecca, how are you? I love your hair! It’s black again, very chic!” He sashays over and gives me a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “That brother of yours gets to talking and he forgets everything.” He moves to take the tray, but Ryan blocks him.
“Thanks, I was tired of the red.” And pissed off about being compared to another redhead.
“I am taking the food out now,” Ryan replies. “Becca and I just had some things to talk about. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“I understand, Honey. I wish I had a sibling.” He makes a pouty face and quickly stops himself, returning to a blank expression. “I almost forgot how laughing and frowning causes lines.”
I love my brother-in-law, but he has always been obsessed with youth, and now with his fortieth birthday looming, he is even more crazed. He’s handsome and fit, with closely trimmed strawberry blonde hair, and almond shaped hazel eyes. He and Ryan are a striking couple.
Ryan makes the looney sign behind him, and Paul turns around abruptly, wagging his finger at him. “I am just like a mama with eyes in back of my head, Mr. Scarborough.”
“Yes, Dear,” Ryan says mockingly.
“Yeah, my brother is blind. He had no idea my hair was a different color.” We laugh at Ryan’s typical male behavior and he ignores us.
Afraid of Her Shadow Page 17
