Authors: Liv James
“That would be a Godsend,” Rebecca said,
sounding genuinely relieved.
When they were done eating Clara cleared
the table and Rebecca washed the dishes. Clara gathered Elizabeth in her arms and went into the
living room. She pulled out a box of old toys that Grammy kept hidden away in a
small wooden bench behind the loveseat.
“These were my toys when I was little,”
Clara said to Elizabeth
as she sat next to her on the floor. “Let’s see what’s here.”
They found two naked Barbies, half of a set
of Lincoln Logs, a couple of Hot Wheels cars and some blocks. They played
together until Rebecca emerged from Clara’s bedroom, appearing refreshed from
her shower. Elizabeth
was fading fast, so Rebecca scooped her up in her arms and carried her toward
the back bedroom.
“I’m going to bed, too,” Rebecca said.
“It’s been a long day.”
“We’re leaving early in the morning. About
7:30
,” Clara said, keeping her voice
low as she saw Elizabeth’s
eyes close. “You can set the little alarm next to your bed.”
“Why so early?”
“Because I have a job to get to and you’re
going with me to see Mom.”
“She’ll be there that early?” Rebecca asked
skeptically.
“Probably, yes.”
“That sucks,” Rebecca said. “What about
Bill?”
“I don’t know if he’ll be there or not.”
Rebecca closed the door to the bedroom,
while Clara cleaned up the toys. When she was done she checked all the locks on
the doors and went to her own bedroom.
The three packages were still there, lined
up on her bed. She stood in the door for a moment, wondering if she should even
open them at all.
She walked over to them and searched for
return addresses. There was a small square box from Aesthetics, another larger
box from David, and … one from Jon.
Talk about your past coming back to haunt
you, she thought, as she scanned the boxes. She picked up the one from Jon
first.
She sat on the edge of the bed and opened
it. Inside was a small, neatly wrapped present, with a red bow and a tiny card
in a cream-colored envelope. She opened the envelope first.
Glad
you’re okay. I thought you might want a new journal to mark your fresh start.
If I play my cards right you’ll be writing nice things about me in here before
you know it.
Jon.
She smiled and opened the box, which
contained a small leather journal and a good, heavy pen. She was touched by the
thoughtfulness of the gift, that he remembered how much she depended on writing
in her journal to stay sane. He used to try to peek over her shoulder as she
was writing, asking what she’d written about him. She always told him that if
she wrote what she really thought about him the pages would erupt from
spontaneous combustion. He usually kissed her when she said that.
She sat on the edge of her queen-size bed,
holding the journal and re-reading his note. She put it to her nose and
breathed in, hoping to capture a hint of his cologne on the paper. She didn’t,
but she did envision him writing the note, and going to the trouble of
carefully packaging the journal. She was surprised at how much she missed him,
how she wished she’d had another chance to talk with him in Tulsa. She still didn’t trust him, but God
she had to admit he was trying. She could sense it, and between his call with
Meg and this gift, she could see it, too.
It
was several minutes before Clara remembered the other packages lying beside
her. She eyed them suspiciously, then picked up the one from Aesthetics.
It was small, maybe half the size of a
shoebox. She ripped into it and found a stack of photographs and a folded piece
of white linen stationery. She glanced through the pictures, recognizing the
broken and ripped pieces of artwork from David’s rampage on his way out of the
gallery. She slowly unfolded the paper.
She gasped when she saw that it was not a
note at all, but an invoice.
“65,000 dollars!” she exclaimed, and then
slapped her hand over her mouth, remembering she wasn’t alone. Marguerite had
signed the invoice for $65,000 to “reimburse Aesthetics for damages caused by
Ms. Clara Spritzer on May 17.”
“You bitch,” she said under her breath. She
crumpled up the invoice and threw it into the small wicker trash can next to
the bureau. Then she stood up and slammed the photos into it, too. “Unfreaking
believable.”
She spun around from the trash can and saw
the third package lying on the bed, still unopened. It was from David. He
hadn’t even tried to disguise his handwriting this time, although there was no
return address. She stared at the box.
She let it lay there as she slipped into a
new ultra soft baby blue nightgown that she’d picked up at the mall. She went
into the bathroom, picking up the towel that Rebecca had tossed on the floor
and using it to sop up the water she’d splashed out of the tub. She replaced
the caps on her shampoo and conditioner, then washed her face and brushed her
teeth.
When she was through she placed the unopened
package on the rocking chair in the corner of the room without opening it.
She’d had enough surprises for one night. She snuggled down into the covers,
picked up the journal and pen, and began to write.
Wednesday,
May 22.
This journal
was a gift from an old friend, and it found its way to me here at Grammy’s
bungalow just in the knick of time. If I can’t share what I’m feeling with
someone soon I’m going to go mad.
So, journal,
you are the lucky recipient of all my crazy thoughts and dreams, hopes and
fears.
And my
biggest fears, as of tonight, are the woman sleeping in the bedroom down the
hall and that large box that keeps staring at me from across the room.
At least it
isn’t ticking.
She continued to write until she’d filled
five pages with the details of what drew her back to Brighton.
It was cathartic, getting it all down on paper. Now maybe she could start to
let it all go. When she was done, she set the journal and the pen on the
nightstand and clicked off the light, praying that sleep would come easily.
CHAPTER
10
The next morning, Rebecca and Elizabeth
followed Clara to the office, this time with Elizabeth strapped snuggly in her new car
seat in the back of Rebecca’s Toyota.
When they got there, Meg was in the office’s kitchenette making the morning
coffee. Clara whisked Rebecca and Elizabeth
into the conference room at the end of the hall before Meg saw them.
Clara closed the conference room door and
started back toward her office, then stopped at the supply closet to find
something for Elizabeth
to play with. She was only two, for goodness sakes. She needed something to
occupy her and entertain her. Her mother should’ve figured that out by now.
As she rooted through the closet Clara
considered buying Beck a parenting book but then thought better of it. If it
came from Clara she wouldn’t read it anyway. She might read it if it came from
Josie, but God Clara hated to drag Josie into it. She grew too attached too
fast when it came to Rebecca. Clara wasn’t sure if it was guilt or that Rebecca
reminded her mother so much of herself.
She went back to the conference room and
sat down across from her sister.
“Are you sure you want me to call Josie?”
Clara asked one last time. She’d already questioned her repeatedly over
breakfast. “I don’t want to drag her into this unless you promise not to take
off on her again.”
“I’m sure,” Rebecca said.
Clara reached across the table and handed Elizabeth a package of
smelly markers and some copy paper to draw on. Elizabeth smiled at her and slid down from
the chair. She wandered over to the far corner of the room and lay down on the floor.
Clara watched as she dumped the box of
markers out and searched through them until she found a pink one. Some things
were just instinctive.
“Okay,” Clara said and headed toward the
door just as she heard the front door open. “It looks like I may not need to
make that call anyway.”
“Clara!” Josie called, heading in the
opposite direction toward Clara’s office.
Clara stuck her head out of the
conference room doorway at the other end of the hall. “We’re in here, Mom.”
Josie spun around and looked at her.
She’d traded in her yellow frock for a pair of peddle pushers and a
loose-fitting tank top.
“I was just getting Rebecca settled
in here,” Clara said cautiously.
“You found her?” Josie cried, jogging
over and looking in. “Oh, Beck,” she said, tilting her head to one side so her
sandy brown hair cascaded down her right shoulder.
“Hi Mom,” Rebecca said sheepishly. The
bitterness she saved for Clara melted away where their mother was concerned. It
had always been Josie and Rebecca against the world, or at least against Bill
and Clara.
“It’s good to see you, kid,” Josie
said, pulling Rebecca up from the chair and holding her at arms length to
inspect her. She was wearing jeans and a lime-green t-shirt, with sandals that
showed off her desperate need for a pedicure. Clara wouldn’t have been caught
dead revealing those toes in public.
“You too,” Rebecca said, reaching in
for a quick hug.
“Where have you been?” Josie crooned.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“I was trying to get my crap together
before I called you,” Rebecca said, as her head tilted toward the floor. “But …
I didn’t.”
Josie’s eyes lit on Elizabeth watching them from the corner of
the room. Clara heard her mother’s breath catch.
“This is Elizabeth, Mom. My
daughter,” Rebecca said, looking up when she heard Josie’s reaction.
Josie walked over to Elizabeth and gingerly kneeled beside her.
“Hi honey. I’m MomMom Josie.”
Elizabeth
glanced up but didn’t say anything.
“Are you hungry?” Josie asked her
softly. Clara could see tears welling up in her mother’s eyes. She had to choke
back a wave of her own tears at the sight of her mother’s raw emotion.
Elizabeth
vigorously shook her head no.
“We just ate at Clara’s place,”
Rebecca said.
“Clara’s?” Josie asked, standing up
and lowering her eyebrows disapprovingly at Clara, who immediately straightened
up and braced herself.
“Clara put us up there last night,”
Rebecca said.
“You should have called me,” Josie reproved.
Clara tried not to flinch.
“Trust me, Mom. It was better this
way,” Clara said firmly. “We’re here now.”
“Rebecca,” Josie said, turning toward
her youngest daughter when she realized Clara wouldn’t budge. “Where have you
been? And why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? I can forgive you a lot of
things but this is about more than you. This is about time lost we can never
get back.”
“We were living in Maryland,” Rebecca sighed, apparently trying
to answer the least difficult question first.
“Who’s we?” Josie asked.
“Elizabeth and me and her father.”
Clara watched the interaction between the
two women and took a deep breath. She wanted to string Rebecca up for having a
baby and not telling their mother, the one person in the world who could’ve
helped her.
“Good. So she has a father. Where is
he now?” Josie asked.
“Gone,” Rebecca said, setting her jaw
firmly, as if she’d been preparing for this conversation for a very long time.
“What’s his name?” Josie asked.
“I’m not telling you,” Rebecca said,
folding her arms across her chest.
“Why not?” Josie asked. “Why don’t
you want me to know who he is?”
“Because I don’t want you to go
looking for him. It’s over. Elizabeth and I are here to make a clean start,”
Rebecca said. “And we don’t need him mucking it up.”