Authors: Brenda Grate
“I really appreciate you taking—”
“Don’t say it. I’m your friend. You don’t have to thank me. The restaurant is my life, but you’re my friend. Since I’d give my life for you, there’s no contest.”
The tears she couldn’t shed for her failed relationship came swiftly in the face of Connie’s love.
“I know, I know.” Connie laughed, tears in her own eyes. “Now, let’s watch this show so we can moon over Mr. Darcy.”
Emma got lost in the story of Elizabeth and her Mr. Darcy. It appealed to the idealistic little girl who still lurked inside her. The movie evoked a question she had never asked herself before, though.
Is there really such a thing as true love?
That was the question of the age. Emma used to believe in it. Back when Alan proposed on bended knee in the middle of the street, she’d believed in it. He’d shouted over the horns and irate drivers that if she didn’t say yes, he’d die. She shouted back that he would die whether she said yes or no, but she’d accepted, with stars and happily ever after in her eyes.
Alan had always been one for grand gestures, but now she wondered if he’d really meant it? She had been his choice. She’d known that right from the time he’d spotted her hurrying across the campus where he’d been meeting with one of the instructors. He’d never told her what the meeting had been about, but he always answered it didn’t matter. What mattered was he’d found the love of his life.
I guess he’s going to have a short life then.
Emma shuddered and tried again to put Alan out of her mind.
Connie stood at the door, pulling on her shoes. “Come to the restaurant tomorrow for dinner. I got a shipment of truffles in and I’m going to make you something special.”
“Okay, I will. I look forward to it.”
They hugged.
“Hey, what’s that?” Connie asked.
Emma turned to see what Connie was pointing at. A framed photo of a small white house in Greece hung on the wall beside the front door. “Oh, that’s my grandfather’s house.”
“It’s so cute. Where is it?”
“In Nafplio, Greece. That’s where he came from.”
Connie turned and stared at her. Emma got a crinkling feeling in her spine. She’d seen that look on Connie’s face before. It always spelled trouble.
For Emma.
Connie left and Emma prepared for bed. She’d answered Connie’s mad rush of questions about the little house in Greece and now couldn’t get her mind off it.
She had inherited the house from her grandfather, although she’d never seen it. There had never been enough time when the kids were small and then, when they went off to college, Alan had gotten very busy with his company. She had never been brave enough to take a trip to Greece alone, and so she still hadn’t fulfilled the conditions of her inheritance—that she just once visit the little house in Greece. Her grandfather had said that once she saw it, she could decide what she would do with it. In the meantime, a friend of the family took care of it.
Whenever she thought of the house, it saddened her. She’d loved her grandfather and regretted she hadn’t made the time to travel to Greece. She’d grown up with his stories of an idyllic childhood spent mostly on the shores of the Aegean Sea. Emma drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She slumped onto her bed, her nightgown bunched around her neck, and let her arms drop to her sides.
Is there anything in my life that I’ve actually seen through to completion?
Emma gazed in the mirror over her dresser and then turned away. She was so disgusted with herself, she couldn’t even look into her own eyes. She pulled the gown from around her neck and tossed it over the mirror, then climbed into bed naked.
Chapter 5
“Mother?”
Emma groaned and rolled over. She struggled to get away from the dream with Jen standing in her room haranguing her.
“Mother, wake up.”
It wasn’t a dream. Her harried-looking daughter stood in the middle of her room demanding to be heard. Emma had a vision of a tiny Jennifer, only three, standing in the exact same spot and demanding her breakfast. Emma let out an exasperated breath.
Some things never change.
Jen charged forward and reached for the covers. “Come on, we need to talk.”
Emma grabbed the covers and hung on, frantic. “I’ll get up now. You can wait for me in the sitting room.”
Jen paused, her hand hovering over the duvet. She glanced down at Emma’s naked shoulders.
“You’re not wearing anything?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic expression.
Emma didn’t respond. After a moment, Jen stomped to the sitting room.
How on Earth did I give birth to such a harridan?
Jen had always been forceful, yes, but she’d been a sweet girl, too. Emma missed the days when her daughter would smile at her, when she seemed to love her. She’d always thought the teenage angst passed by the time the child entered university. Jen, just months from finishing her second year of law school, had only gotten worse.
Emma climbed out of bed and grabbed her nightgown from the mirror, keeping her eyes averted from it. She pulled her robe on and headed to the sitting room when it occurred to her.
What is Jen doing here? She should be studying for exams.
Jen sat on the sofa, looking out the large window to an immaculate expanse of lawn bordered by several leafy trees. Jen’s posture was still, her hands clenched in her lap. She must have been in a rush to leave her apartment because her normally tidy appearance seemed scruffy around the edges. She wore no makeup—something Emma hadn’t seen since Jen was thirteen—and her short hair looked tousled rather than styled.
She turned toward the kitchen for much needed coffee before Jen could spot her, calling over her shoulder, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please,” came the polite response.
Emma’s hope disappeared. The more polite Jen got, the more she was building up for an explosion. She’d gotten it from her father as that was Alan’s way. Emma didn’t know if Jen inherited the trait or just gleaned it from countless lessons.
I love my daughter, I just don’t like her sometimes.
Shame heated Emma’s cheeks while she prepared two cups of coffee. To delay the inevitable—Emma never dove into the water, she always tortured herself by easing in bit by bit—she decided to make cappuccinos. It was a treat she didn’t often indulge in, but busying herself in the kitchen calmed her nerves and helped her to think clearly.
Once the coffees were ready, Emma loaded them on a tray with condiments and a plate of croissants and carried it all into the sitting room. She placed the tray on the large square table in the middle of the room and sat on the sofa beside Jen.
“Good morning, honey,” Emma said as she picked up her cup.
Jen looked her way and a tiny frown creased her forehead.
“Good morning. I hope you slept well.”
Jen reached for her own cup and cradled it in her long thin fingers that were so like Alan’s.
Emma still loved Alan’s hands. They had always seemed so capable.
“Pretty well. Why aren’t you at school? We could have spoken on the phone rather than you driving an hour to come see me right before exams, although I’m happy you’re here.”
Jen’s face soured. “We weren’t getting anywhere on the phone. I decided we needed to settle this in person.”
“Oh, Jennifer.” Emma sighed, audibly. “There’s no point in discussing the house. Your father, as you know, will do exactly what he wants to do. I have no say in the matter.”
“Of course you do, you just never stand up to him enough to find out. But, that’s not why I’m here. I’m dealing with the house issue. I’ll talk to Daddy, and if he still won’t listen, then I’ll let it go.”
You’ve never given up on anything that easily in your life. What else is going on?
“Okay, why are you here then?” Emma asked.
“I wanted to talk to you about Daddy’s girlfriend. She’s pregnant and he’s thinking of marrying her. I think you should talk to him about it.”
Emma’s cup clattered in the saucer. She set it down before she dropped it.
Her world spun for a moment. She gripped Jen’s knee to steady herself.
Just throw a bomb at me and expect me to pick up my own pieces.
Emma tried to respond, but her throat stuck as though the coffee had become viscous.
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She still didn’t feel calm enough to speak, so she continued counting.
“Mother. What are you doing? I’m trying to talk to you.”
Emma opened her eyes. She looked into Jen’s grey eyes and wondered if she’d given her daughter even a tiny piece of herself or if Jen was really just a carbon copy of Alan. She thought back to what Connie had said about letting her family walk on her, and took a deep breath.
“I love you, Jen.”
Her daughter looked surprised. She paused a moment then said, “I love you, too.”
“You’re an adult now, and I think you realize that I have no more say with your father. We are separated. He’s going to do whatever he wants, even if it means marrying his pregnant girlfriend.”
How long has this been going on?
The scream inside her built until it took every ounce of her strength to hold it back.
“You are going to have to start dealing with things yourself,” Emma continued. “You can’t continue to push me to make things right for you.”
Jen looked at Emma as though she were a stranger. “Are you telling me I’m being childish?” Her back stiffened and her face flushed.
“No, honey, I’m not saying that.” Emma’s voice was gentle, despite how she felt. Yes, she had babied Jen, never demanded she learn to deal with things on her own.
I really am a terrible mother.
Emma nearly hung her head in shame, but forced her chin up. It wouldn’t do to look weak, like a capsized turtle.
“Then what are you saying?” Jen asked.
Emma reached for her daughter’s hand and then stopped herself. Jen had never been fond of physical affection, even as a baby. She would eat and then howl to be put down, unlike most babies that cry to be picked up. There was a time when Emma thought Jen might be autistic, and wondered now if there still might be something to it. She was brilliant, but lacked something in the way of social skills. She was intelligent enough to learn whatever she lacked, however, and had learned much when she’d gone off to kindergarten.
“I’m saying that I can’t help you as much as I want to. I’m also asking you to stop pushing me to do what you want when I’ve declined your request.”
Jen continued to stare.
“I’m sorry, Jen. I know this is hard for you to hear, but I’m changing things. I’ve been a pushover, just as you said. Not just with your father, but also with you and Brad. I’ve never earned your respect.”
Jen ran a hand over her forehead, then tried futilely to pat down the messy strands of honey-blonde hair.
“Okay, I’ve heard you,” Jen said.
Emma waited for more, but was assured by the look on her daughter’s face that nothing more would be coming. Jen would go away and think about things. It was her way, and Emma approved. She’d rather that than face an emotional outburst they’d later have to mop up and apologize for. Maybe that was one thing Emma could take credit for. Alan was more likely to explode in anger when he didn’t get his way.
Jen got to her feet and placed her unfinished coffee on the tray.
“Thank you for breakfast.” She hadn’t touched a single croissant.
Emma often worried about how thin Jen had been getting in the last year. Law school could be brutal, and it looked like Jen had been having a rough time of it, although her grades had been nothing but stellar.
“Can I have a hug?”
Emma tried to push past the wall she felt building between them. Who knew when she’d see Jen again?
Her daughter stepped into her arms and surprised Emma with a strong hug. When they stepped back, she looked up at her little girl who was at least two inches taller and gave her a warm smile. Jen surprised her with a quick smile and then she was gone.
Emma sat at her kitchen table after Jen left with another coffee and ate three croissants, not caring if she put on weight.
Who do I have to look good for anymore?
Her daughter’s reaction had surprised her. Standing up to Jen could have produced a storm Emma felt ill equipped to weather. Instead, it seemed she might have gained a notch of respect, which meant Connie had been right after all.
Emma picked up the last croissant, considered, and then ate it while thinking about Alan being unfaithful. Not only did he have a girlfriend, but she would be having a baby. Emma had always loved the fact that she and Alan were each other’s first and only spouses in an age when blended families were common. There were no children from another relationship. She’d been so proud to be the mother of his only children.
Now he has taken that from me, too.
Before Emma could search out something else to eat, she made her way back to bed. She had nowhere to be and no one to see. She might as well enjoy a few more hours of oblivion.
Chapter 6
Jen sat in her black VW Jetta, a graduation present from her parents, outside of her childhood home and wondered how she would cope with the world crashing around her and no one there to pick up the pieces. She’d always relied on her mother to sort things out. Jen respected her mother for standing up and saying no, even though it had been difficult to hear. She’d constantly urged her to stand up to Daddy, but Jen hadn’t been prepared for having her own advice turned around on herself.
She started the car and headed back to the university.
I wasted a day I could have spent studying for finals.
Jen slapped her hand on the steering wheel. She was lying to herself and she knew it. Sure, she needed to see her mother since they weren’t getting anywhere on the phone, but she’d gotten up this morning and left with barely a second thought to her exams and studying. She was sick of law school, and had no one to blame but herself.
She’d grown up with a “soft” older brother, as Daddy called him, and so quickly learned to fill in the gap as the male of the family. When Brad came out to her, the pieces fell into place. The trouble was she didn’t really want to be a boy, but she became more and more of a tomboy in order to secure her place in Daddy’s heart. But it had never been enough. He could never see past her feminine features, especially as she began to develop into a woman. No matter how much she succeeded at all the things he wanted for his son, he wasn’t satisfied. Going to law school had been the final attempt to secure her place as his replacement son. It hadn’t worked. Daddy still didn’t know about Brad’s sexual orientation. She’d been tempted many times to tell him, thinking that would finally accomplish her goal, but then she was ashamed of herself for even considering it.