One Big Happy Family

Chapter 10

10

“Nick made this one when he was about your age,” Dana told Madeline, holding up a heavily decorated star made from Popsicle sticks and rhinestones.

Madeline eyed the gaudy decoration doubtfully. “It’s really purple and gold.”

“For the University of Washington,” Wyatt told her. “Those are Husky colors.”

Dana lowered her voice. “We can put it toward the back.”

“Hey, I heard that,” Nick called from his place on a ladder on the right side of the tree. Heath was up just as high on the left. They were stringing the lights while Dana, Blair and the kids sorted through the ornaments.

There were the usual handmade treasures—clay palm prints, plain ornaments that had been painted, oddly shaped creatures made out of pipe cleaners, along with dated ornaments and a few dozen small Patience Brewster ornaments that her mother had always loved. The rest were a hodgepodge of store-bought and souvenir decorations. Dana had already teared up twice, handling ancient ornaments that had been so meaningful to her father. She was enjoying the tree decorating, but couldn’t help noticing her dad’s absence. Normally he sat right there on the sofa, telling Nick and her mom if the lights were even or not.

“Heath, we’re going to need to borrow your quarter again,” Nick said, passing him the string of lights.

Heath draped it along the branches, covering each one on that level, then passed it back. “Sure. Why?”

“Tinsel,” Dana said, with a smile she hoped looked genuine. “We’re going to fight over tinsel. He loves it and I don’t.” She pointed at her brother. “We alternate every year, and last year there was tinsel.”

“But we have a lot more people with us,” Nick said with a chuckle. “Let them decide.”

“I love tinsel,” Madeline whispered.

Dana gave her a quick hug. “It’s okay. You can love tinsel as much as you want.”

The kids were great. Dana enjoyed having them for the holidays. Right now they were a nice distraction from missing her father. She knew her mom had been worried about them fitting in, but they’d settled in quickly.

The doorbell rang. Rufus immediately sprang to his feet and started barking. Dana glanced toward the front of the house, wondering who would be... Oh, right. Tiffany.

She stayed where she was while her mom yelled from the kitchen, where she was making cookies. “I’ll get it.”

Heath climbed down the ladder. “Me, too.”

Wyatt looked at Dana. “Is that our mom?”

“Probably.”

He and his sister took off like a shot, Rufus at their heels. Paul, who was untangling strings of lights to hand to the other guys to put on the tree, tried to hold in a grin.

“I have to say, it’s never boring around here.”

“No, it’s not.”

Dana wasn’t sure how she felt about “Tiffany” joining them. Obviously she didn’t care if there was one more person for the holidays. The entire celebration was about connecting. But Heath’s ex-wife? Was she the only one who thought that was a little strange?

Still, it was very typical of her mother to impulsively invite someone to join them. Julie had always been about making sure no one was left behind. But Dana couldn’t help wondering if her mother had really thought it all through. Heath and Tiffany were divorced. Did they get along now or were they still fighting? What if Tiffany was a bitch? They were already dealing with the apparently socially awkward Gwen. How would one more person affect the dynamics?

Not her issue, she told herself.

She got up and walked toward the entryway. Wyatt burst into the room, pulling a pretty redhead along with him.

“This is my mom. Mom, this is everybody.”

Dana started to hold out her hand to offer a greeting, then stopped. She frowned slightly as she took in the familiar features. Yes, the woman was twelve or fourteen years older, but she still looked as she had.

“Tiffany?”

Wyatt’s mom glanced at her with a friendly smile that suddenly froze and her eyes widened. “Oh, wow. Dana? Is that you?”

“It is.”

They rushed toward each other and hugged.

Julie walked in, a pillow under one arm and a suitcase in her hand. “You two know each other?”

Dana stepped back and laughed. “We do. Tiffany and I went to high school together. She was a junior when I was a freshman.”

Tiffany smiled and nodded. “We were in orchestra. Junior and senior members are assigned a freshman to mentor for the year. I was Dana’s mentor.”

Dana wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe her mother went pale.

“You were in high school together,” Julie repeated. “That’s amazing. Wyatt, here’s your pillow. Madeline, why don’t you and your brother show your mom where she’ll be sleeping?” She offered Tiffany a tight smile. “You’ll have to talk to Rufus about which bunk he’s been using. I’m not saying you won’t win the fight, but there might be one to be had.”

Tiffany took a step toward her. “I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been so gracious.” Tears filled her eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Julie waved away the comment. “It’s Christmas. You should be with family. And look! They’re all here. Now go get settled. Heath, carry her suitcase down, then come back and help with the lights. We want the tree decorated today for sure.”

Everyone jumped to do her bidding. While they were reacting, Julie returned to the kitchen, no doubt to continue baking cookies. Dana followed her.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Wyatt has his special pillow, so tonight should be easier.” She lowered her voice. “I looked it over, and honestly, I can’t tell what makes it special.”

“You know how kids are.” Dana moved closer. “Are you sorry you invited Tiffany?”

“Of course not. I couldn’t stand to think of her all alone in her house.” She motioned for Dana to step closer, then whispered, “Her boyfriend dumped her. He was supposed to take her to the Bahamas, but ended things instead.”

“Bastard.”

“Exactly. Breakups are tough enough, but over the holidays? No way. She’ll stay here with us and be distracted. It’ll be great.”

Dana stared at her mother. “I don’t know how you do it, Mom. You’re amazing. Your boyfriend’s ex-wife? I couldn’t be that generous.”

“Of course you could. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Julie got through the cookie making and the tree trimming, then lunch, but finally, a little after two, when everyone else wanted to go ride inner tubes down the hill, she was able to beg off and retreat to her room. She closed the door behind her, walked to the bed and sat down. Seconds later, she was on her feet, pacing the length of the room, telling herself to breathe, that everything would be fine. It had to be. Christmas was still days away.

The door opened and Heath stepped inside. She instantly retreated, putting the bed between them and wishing it were a whole lot more space.

“Why aren’t you out with everyone else?” she asked with faux cheer. “You love going down a mountain on an inner tube.”

“Actually, I don’t, and I wanted to talk.” His expression was concerned. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Me? Don’t be silly. I’m fine. Perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong.”

Heath stayed by the door, watching her. He didn’t say anything, and something about the way he was standing told her he was willing to wait forever.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered, taking a step back, then another, until she was plastered against the wall. Why wasn’t this room bigger?

“You’re freaked out about something. Is it Tiffany? I thought you were all right with her being here.”

“I am. Totally. Completely.” She paused. “All right, maybe I wasn’t that accepting, but asking her here was the right thing to do.”

“You’re very kind.” His gaze was steady. “What changed?”

“She went to high school with my daughter!”

Heath’s lack of reaction made her want to shake him.

“She’s what? Two years older than Dana? Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“I’m old! I’m a crone. Why are you dating me? It’s ridiculous. I’m laughable. This is a total nightmare. I can only imagine what Gwen’s thinking.”

“Why do you care about Gwen’s opinion on anyone?”

“I don’t, but she’s representative of a worldview that makes me uncomfortable.” She pressed a hand to her chest, worrying her heart was pounding too fast. “Why does she have to be so young?”

“Why does it matter?”

She glared at him. “Oh, sure. Be rational. You’re the good-looking younger guy. There’s no bad in here for you. I’m the one who gets judged. I’m the one who gets mocked.”

He took a step toward her. She would have retreated, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.

“Why do you care what anyone thinks?” he asked again. “You’ve never been that person.”

“I don’t,” she said slowly, then huffed out a breath. “Except this time.” She moved to the bed and sank down. “She’s so young. And what’s with the boobs? They’re huge. My breasts are raisins compared to hers.” Okay, not raisins, but they were substantially smaller. “How does she stay upright?”

Heath sat next to her—not touching but close enough to be a presence. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“They’re implants, remember.”

Julie glared at him. “You know that and I know that, but no one else does and it’s not as if we can make an announcement. And while we’re on the subject, and I don’t mean that harshly, but really? You wanted your wife to get implants?”

“Hey, wait. It wasn’t me.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “She did it after the divorce. We talked about it when we were married and I wasn’t interested. You need to stop assuming the worst about me.”

“You need to stop having a wife who’s twenty-two years younger than me. And you should be older, too.”

He pulled her close. She struggled to get away, but he didn’t release her, and after a couple of seconds she realized she still liked being held by him.

“Why the freak-out?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know, but it happened, so we have to deal.”

“I agree. Julie, you’re the one I want to be with. You’re important to me. Tiffany and I are divorced. Whatever we had died a long time ago.”

She looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “But the age thing.”

“Only exists in your mind.”

“And the wrinkles on my face.”

“What wrinkles?”

“They’re there. Plus, I think my butt’s starting to sag.”

“It’s not.” He kissed her. “This is your Christmas, too. I want you to enjoy it.”

“I will.”

“Even with Tiffany here?”

She thought about how the other woman had sounded so heartbroken on the phone. Being dumped just before Christmas had to be the worst.

“She seems very nice.” She tilted her head. “So you’ve never touched them?”

“What?”

“The implants. You can’t say if they feel different or not?”

“No, I can’t, but talk to Tiffany. Maybe she’ll let you feel her up.”

“It wouldn’t be sexual,” Julie murmured. “I am curious, but it might be too weird to ask.”

Heath chuckled. “You think?” He kissed her again. “Better?”

“Yes. The age thing still bugs me, but I’m going to try to not think about it.”

“Or maybe spend more time staring in the mirror. You’re a beautiful woman.”

Staring in the mirror? Not her style. “You’re a good man. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Blair carefully folded the sweater to fit the box. Once she’d adjusted the tissue paper, she set the box in the center of the wrapping paper she’d already cut and started taping it in place.

As she did every holiday season, Julie had set up the craft room as a wrapping paper station, with plenty of supplies and a big table to work on. There was even a cardboard sign to put on the door proclaiming Keep Out! I’m Wrapping Presents in a fun, colorful font.

She’d meant to get her wrapping done before they’d left Seattle but life interfered, she thought as she reached for the next gift. No doubt Julie had finished her shopping long before Thanksgiving. She was just that kind of person. Dana was fairly organized, as well. Like mother, like daughter. Thankfully she couldn’t say the same about herself and Gwen.

Everything about her mother irritated her. She paused as she mentally amended that statement to almost everything. Her mom was great with Madeline and Wyatt, which Blair could appreciate. She told herself that once she and Nick had kids, Gwen would probably be a decent grandmother. At least Blair hoped so. Having her do a disappearing act on her grandkids would define unforgivable.

The door to the craft room opened and her mother stepped in. “There you are. I thought we should talk.”

Blair glared at her. “What’s with refusing to knock? Does a closed door mean anything to you? There’s even a sign. I’m wrapping presents.”

Her mother closed the door and took a seat at the table. “You’re not wrapping anything for me. We haven’t exchanged gifts in years. As I said, we need to talk.”

Blair told herself not to get mad—her temper wouldn’t help the situation. Only everything her mother said bugged her. Yes, they didn’t exchange presents because her mother had bluntly told her there was no point. They bought themselves what they wanted, and everything else was just a waste of time and money. Which might have been true, but had still hurt her nineteen-year-old self.

That remembered wound, still a little tender to the touch, overtook common sense.

“You needing to talk, while interesting, doesn’t define my life,” she snapped. “What are you doing here, Mother? Why did you move to Seattle and why did you bother coming to the cabin for Christmas? With the exception of Heath’s kids, you don’t seem very fond of the people staying here. I’m wondering what you hope to get out of this, because unless your goal is to ruin everyone else’s holiday, I don’t get it.”

She half expected her mother to stomp out of the room, but she didn’t. Instead, Gwen turned away for a few seconds before looking back and saying, “I want to be involved in your life.”

Blair stared at her blankly, unable to process the words. “Why? You never did before.”

“That’s not true. You’re my daughter. I wanted to be involved, but there were complications.”

“They weren’t complications. You went away. One second you were my mom and the next you weren’t. Do you have any idea what it was like for me?”

“I lost my son!” her mother shouted.

“I lost my brother, which was bad, but then I lost my mother.” Blair put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “You had grief. I get that, but you turned your back on me for the rest of my childhood. You abandoned me when I was four years old. Four. Sure, you were dealing with the loss, but so was I. You’re the mom. You’re supposed to take care of your children, but you didn’t. It was like the grief mattered more than anything. Certainly more than me.”

She thought about how great her mom was with Wyatt and Madeline. “When Wyatt forgot his special pillow, you jumped into action and came up with the idea of us having a sleepover—all of us together—so he wouldn’t feel scared.”

She paused to get control. No way she was giving in to tears now. “Imagine being a small child who has lost her brother, not that I knew what that meant. Imagine how scary it was to have lots of adults in the house and not knowing what was going on. Imagine that child hearing her mother screaming and screaming, like she was never going to stop. Imagine having a neighbor come and take you away.”

Her mother looked at her without speaking, her pain obvious. Blair ignored the inevitable guilt and plunged on.

“Imagine coming back home, terrified of what you’ll find. And in case you can’t, let me tell you what it was like. The house was so dark and quiet. I was scared to the point of shaking, but no one paid attention to me. I didn’t know what had happened and I didn’t know where you were. Dad was there, but it wasn’t the same. Because until we lost Robby, you’d been my mom in every sense of the word. But suddenly you wouldn’t see me. No matter how I begged, you wouldn’t see me or hold me, and you certainly wouldn’t tell me that everything would be all right.” She swallowed against the thickness in her throat. “You never held me again, Mom. Not once in my life. Not once. For the rest of my childhood, only my father hugged me.”

“I’m sorry.” Gwen’s voice broke on the words. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Holding you was too much of a reminder that I would never hold him again.”

“And now we circle around to the obvious and repetitive question. Why does your dead child matter so much more than the living one? Why was your grief bigger than your love for me? I’m assuming here. Maybe you never cared about me at all.”

She thought about her teenage years when she’d been bullied in school to the point where her father had decided to move her to Seattle so she could start over.

“You didn’t visit me when I went to live with Uncle Paul. I was fifteen and in a strange city, starting over. You never came. Only Dad showed up.”

Her mother started to cry. “I couldn’t. I hurt too much because of what had happened to you. I couldn’t stand to think of it.”

“Or look at me.” Blair’s tone was accusing. “Do you think I didn’t notice?”

“It wasn’t that.” Her mother stared at her. “It wasn’t that. Those teens were so awful to you. I was angry but also afraid of spiraling back into the grief. I was terrified of getting so lost, I’d never find my way back. I got help and got better, but by then, it was too late. The past was repeating itself. First with your father and then with Paul. You were a team and didn’t need me.”

The unfairness of that made Blair want to scream.

“Don’t,” she shouted. “Don’t you dare accuse me of being the problem. It’s all on you. Dad and I were a team because we were the only ones left in the family. The same with me and Paul. It was just us. You could have belonged but you couldn’t be bothered.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand just fine. You had enough in you to give to your kids at school, but nothing left for me. You never worried about me or how I was doing. I grew up without a mother. Not a unique situation. The only difference between me and those other kids is my mother was alive and in the same house.”

Blair glared at her. “I stopped crying for you around the time I turned ten or eleven. I finally figured out you would never be there for me, never care about me. And you know why? Because that’s what you taught me.”

She wanted to add that she would never forgive her mother for what she’d done, but couldn’t say the words. Not because she cared about her mother, but because she knew her father would be disappointed if she did.

“You chose to be okay for your students,” she whispered. “You never chose to be okay for me. That’s why I don’t give a damn if you want to be a part of my life.”

Her mother covered her face with her hands. “You don’t know what it was like for me. The depression ate me alive. I did the best I could. Back when your brother was born, no one paid attention to postpartum depression—not like they do now. I was expected to simply power through. Then he died, and it was like I’d died, too. I didn’t have anything left for you. I was barely alive.”

Gwen brushed her tears. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“But you did! Fine, you were depressed. That explains what? The first three or four years. What about after that? I get there’s no timeline for grief, but from my perspective, you never even tried to let it go. What about when Dad died?”

“What does your father have to do with anything?”

“I flew out to Boise to be with you and you shut me out.”

“I’d just lost the love of my life. Did you expect me to entertain you?”

Blair ignored the outrage in her mother’s voice. “No, Mom. I expected you to consider the fact that I was your daughter and that I’d lost my father. We could have helped each other deal, but you don’t ever want that. It’s like your pain is so much worse than anyone else’s and we all need to live in service of that. I had pain, too.”

She still did. The missing wasn’t so sharp now, but it didn’t go away. Her father had been there for her, always. He’d done what was best for her, even when that meant letting her go live five hundred miles away.

“You’ve taught me not to trust you,” she said bluntly. “When the bad stuff happens, you won’t be there. Actually, you won’t be there for the good stuff, either. Until I was four, you were a great mom, but after that, you left and you’ve never come back.”

Her mother’s lower lip quivered. “What are you saying?”

“We don’t have a relationship. We haven’t for most of my life. I don’t know why you want to start over now, but I don’t know if I can. More important, I don’t think I want to.”

Her mother began to cry. “I’m your mother.”

Blair ignored the guilt and the need to say that all would be well. “Sure, you get the title, but you’re not like a mother to me. You’re all over Heath’s kids, but you only ever criticize me, telling me what I’m doing wrong. You don’t know me. You should have been there for me, and while I know we can’t change the past, you’re still not there for me.”

“Not like Julie,” Gwen said bitterly. “I know you think she’s perfect.”

Blair wondered if her mother was jealous of the other woman. What was there to be jealous of?

“No, I don’t think she’s perfect. But she’s a great mom who takes care of everyone. She thinks about other people rather than herself. Even when it’s hard, she does the right thing. The woman invited her boyfriend’s ex-wife for Christmas. I admire her willingness to jump in and just do it, even when it’s hard. She made me feel welcome.”

“You’re a catch for Nick and this family. Of course she welcomed you.”

“You’re wrong. Nick isn’t the lucky one, Mom. I am. Because with him and his family, I feel loved and like I belong. No matter what, they’ll be here for me.”

“You’re saying I won’t?” Her mother started crying again.

Blair nodded slowly. “You never have been.” She couldn’t help giving a bitter laugh. “Seriously, tell me one time when you were there for me. Or even showed up in a way that was supportive. Give me one example of you thinking of me and doing something for me. Something thoughtful and kind. Something a mother would do for one of her kids.”

Her mother stared at her without speaking.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. At the risk of repeating myself, you taught me not to trust you. Why are you surprised that I don’t?”

Her mother’s harsh sobs filled the room. Blair’s stomach immediately clenched, and she fought against the need to call back the words. But she knew she couldn’t. They’d both been avoiding the truth for too long.

Her mother raced to the door, flung it open and disappeared. Silence filled the room. Blair felt a familiar clutching low in her belly and wondered how bad the attack would be. She always had a reaction to fighting, or any powerful emotional stressor. Which wasn’t going to be pleasant, but the real problem was what was going to happen now with her mom.

She probed her heart, checking for feelings. There was guilt, of course, and a little shame. She wasn’t the kind of person who deliberately hurt another person. But there was also relief for finally saying exactly what she needed to.

Julie knocked on the open door. “Hey, you okay?”

Blair held in a groan. “You heard?”

“Just the parts where you two were shouting.”

“So most of it?”

Julie moved into the room and sat next to her, then hugged her. “I’m sorry. I wish I could make things better.”

“Not possible.” Blair looked at the doorway, then back at Julie. She lowered her voice. “I hate her.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. She’s awful. I wish she’d stayed in Boise.”

Julie took her hand and squeezed it. “Why did you go live with Paul?”

Blair told herself the past was done and she was strong enough to handle it.

“My IBS comes in cycles. I was going through a bad time and couldn’t get to the bathroom in time.” She felt herself flush. “I had diarrhea in the hallway at school. I was fifteen. It wasn’t the kind of thing the other kids would forget.”

Julie hugged her again. “That would have been a nightmare.”

Blair hung on. “It was. I was humiliated and ashamed. Most of my friends abandoned me. Nothing helped make the situation better, so we agreed I’d go live with Uncle Paul. I got a new doctor, who got me on meds that helped control things, and you know the rest.”

Julie drew back enough to touch her face. “I wish I could make all this better.”

“Me, too.” Her stomach gurgled ominously. She pressed a hand to her belly. “Stress is not my friend.”

“I’m here for you.”

Blair managed a smile. “I know. Thank you.”

Dana walked into the room. “You okay?”

Blair hung her head. “You heard, too?”

“Just, you know, parts of it.”

“Maybe she’ll leave,” Blair murmured, knowing her luck wasn’t that good.

“She’s your mom.” Julie’s voice was gentle. “You need to make peace with her.”

“Or not.”

Dana sat at the table and touched the plaid shirt Blair had been about to wrap. “Is this for Nick?”

Blair nodded. “You know the man loves a plaid shirt.” And they were practical, given how much work he did outside, in the cold Seattle winter.

“I bought him the same one.”

“What?” Blair smiled. “You did?”

Julie touched the soft cotton. “I might have, too. Do you think he’ll notice?”

Blair started to laugh. “Probably not, and if he does, he’ll be perfectly fine with it.”