It does help us, Drake
, Bella had said to her brother.
Two meals she doesn’t have to cook for us or pay for.
Someday, little sister, I’m going to be worth so much we can buy fifty crappy diners if we want to.
Fifty breakfasts?
No, fifty damn stores.
But why would we want fifty stores?
We won’t. I’m just saying we could if we wanted to. Trust me, Bellybear, someday I’m going to give you and Mom anything and
everything you ever wanted.
And he could have. Unfortunately, their mother hadn’t lived to see this come to be. Bella shivered, tears coming now. Sixteen was too young to have to say goodbye to her mother.
Mommy
.
Died of the flu because they didn’t have insurance.
No fucking insurance
, Drake had shouted the night after her
funeral.
That’s what did this.
And she’d shriveled up then, in her angry brother’s presence, in the humiliation it felt to be poor, in the indelible sadness that felt like
a cavern in the middle of her chest. The ache had begun in that
moment and remained tonight, even as she watched the deer watching her.
That’s right
, she had shouted back to Drake that night.
No fucking
insurance
. The first curse word she’d ever said. This was the
beginning of her potty mouth. Because if her mother wasn’t around to care anymore, why should she? And it felt good to say the bad words. And to take tequila shots at parties. And to kiss boys her mother wouldn’t have approved of.
Out of desperation after Esther and Chloe were killed she’d
made the first appointment with Valerie Short. She hadn’t slept more than
a couple of hours a night for a month and she hoped the shrink could give her something to help her sleep. That was all, really, because she didn’t actually believe in therapy—what could a shrink
do to help you? Talk over all the old hurts? Fine. But it wouldn’t mean they’d go away. Her mother was still dead. Her sister-in-law and her precious little niece were still buried side-by-side in a cemetery in Seattle.
But she went. And to her surprise, she found the therapy
sessions helpful, more so than she could have ever imagined. Every week for two months she went to see Valerie and sat in the chair that looked out on the blue water. She sat in the chair next to the miniature Zen garden with the tiny rake and polished rocks and talked about her grief. Nothing was solved but she had an hour in which to cry and shout and sometimes just stare out the window into the waves that
crashed onto the shore again and again and again. And she wondered, why. Why all the suffering? Why all the pain? Why was life nothing but a series of losses? She’d asked Valerie these
questions, none of which the poor woman dressed in long silky skirts and soft cotton blouses and wrap dresses could explain. At the end of two months, Bella accepted a gig for a movie shoot in New Mexico and she’d stopped going. She met Graham a month later, on that movie and, well, then it was the waiting game. For three years. Until finally, she’d had enough and escaped to Oregon, to this little town no had ever heard of and she’d fallen in love with it and her brother all over again and his new family and the river. The river that teaches you your name.
Bella Webber. Bella Webber
it had called to her when she floated on its surface or sunned on a rock with only her hand dipped there in the cool green of the water. Bella Webber, your mother’s daughter. And in the ripples there were whispers.
You are not a girl who gives her life away to a married man. You are a girl that deserves to be loved properly. A
badass chick. Alder’s Auntie Bella and he should admire you and hold you up to the women of his future. You are not someone who leads a compromised life.
And when she returned to Los Angeles she called the Eileen
Fisher-draped Valerie and made another appointment.
At their first session Valerie crossed her arms and smiled but had no expression in her bland and all-seeing eyes. “It’s been almost three years since I’ve seen you.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready to dig deep?”
“Dig deep?
“That’s right,” said Valerie. “It’s time.”
Now, the deer startled and ran out of the yard and into the forest. Bella stood, glancing into the kitchen. Annie was there, making coffee. Perhaps the deer had seen the light shift. Bella
knocked softly on the kitchen door. Annie, her back toward the door, jumped, but seeing it was Bella, waved and opened the door.
One look at her face and Annie opened her arms. “What happened?”
Bella told her everything.
“You’re absolutely right he’s trying to push you away before you can push him away. The key is not allowing him to do that,” said Annie.
“How?”
“By remaining steadfast in your devotion.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means figuring out who murdered Tiffany Archer. Until his name is cleared the poor man isn’t going to be able to give in to his feelings for you. It’s all he can think of right now. Not to mention that guy has major trust issues. Who can blame him? His fiancée runs off with his cousin? I mean, Bella, it’s awful to think of.”
“And I’m not trustworthy in his eyes because of Graham.”
“You will be. Just give it time. Keep doing what you’re doing. Do you want some cake?”
Bella shook her head. Even cake wouldn’t do tonight.
“Come on then, I’m putting you to bed. You can sleep in Alder’s
room tonight,” said Annie. “I’ll give you one of Drake’s sleeping
pills.”
In Alder’s room she put on her pajamas, which smelled like Ben. She brushed her teeth and climbed into the twin bed. Staring at the shadows on the wall, she fought against the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was just an argument between them, not the death of their relationship, she told herself. Perhaps he would wake tomorrow and feel more rational? She had to hope for this. After a few moments Annie came in with a pill and a glass of water.
“Where’s your phone?” asked Annie.
“In my purse.” She’d left her purse in the kitchen. Ben wouldn’t call. He was too stubborn and insane.
“Okay, good. Because Drake says people can do weird things on
this drug and not remember doing it, like calling someone they
really shouldn’t call.”
Bella swallowed the pill. “Will you sit with me?”
“Of course.” Annie perched on the side of the bed and stroked Bella’s hair.
“Is this what it’s like to have an older sister?”
Annie smiled. “I suppose. I wouldn’t know.” She tugged at the blanket, making it tighter about Bella’s shoulders. “I’m proud of you. I know it’s not easy to love someone when they’re not acting very
lovable but that’s when you know it’s real. Ben will come to his
senses,
probably in the morning, and feel like an idiot. Until then, I’m
impressed by how you’re handling this whole thing.”
“You always make me feel like a better person than I really am.”
“Nonsense. You’re better for real.”
“Did I ever tell you that you remind me of my mother?”
Annie smiled. A gentle smile. Just like her mother’s. “That’s just the drug talking”
And then it went blessedly black.
BELLA WOKE THE NEXT MORNING
feeling refreshed. She showered and dressed in slacks and a light sweater and followed the
smell of blackberry syrup and pancakes into the kitchen. Annie was flipping
pancakes. They were dark. This was a shame. It meant they were
whole grain laced with wheat germ and other healthy ingredients. But Drake stirred dark purple syrup, the source of the delightful smell of blackberries, at the stove. Peter and Cleo were at the counter. Peter was eating pancakes between sips of coffee. But Cleo, looking a little green, was reading her script.
“Morning, Bella,” said Annie. “You want some hotcakes?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Sleep okay?” Drake asked, his light blue eyes actually soft and sympathetic.
“Rock-like. That stuff’s powerful.”
“It is. You shouldn’t take it much, though. Totally addictive.”
“Yeah, big brother, I know,” she said, glancing at Annie and
rolling her eyes.
“I saw that.” Drake poured the syrup into a pitcher. Normally she’d be dumping as much as she could get away with over a giant stack of pancakes but this morning her stomach turned at the thought of eating. Was her appetite permanently suppressed?
Damn you, Benjamin Fleck,
she thought.
You’ve messed with my stomach.
As if she conjured him, Ben was suddenly there in the kitchen doorway with wet hair and dressed casually in a jeans and a t-shirt that matched his eyes. Sunday, she thought. He was off work. Why did he have to look so good in jeans? Everyone greeted him, except
Bella. She avoided looking at him, her heart pounding in her chest.
Don’t give him the satisfaction, she thought, of letting him know how much he’d hurt her. She poured some coffee, added a dab of half-and-half, and headed towards the door.
“Bella, no breakfast?” called Annie.
“I’m not hungry.” She didn’t turn around.
“Just coffee for me too,” she heard Ben say.
***
She was in the living room, pretending to read a magazine,
reclined on one of the tan couches, when Cleo came through, still
carrying her script. “Bella, I’m off to work with the coach Richard
suggested. Wish me luck.”
“You’ll do great. She’s the best coach around from what I hear.”
Cleo came to the couch, kneeling on the floor and resting her forearms on the cushion next to Bella. “Don’t worry about this thing with Ben. He’ll come around. He’s just been hurt and is trying to push you away. I did that with Peter but he’ll figure it out. And Peter will figure out who did this.”
“Promise?”
“He’s relentless.” Cleo patted her knee. “I’m so glad you’ll be
there tomorrow to make me look decent.”
“This will not be hard.”
A few minutes after Cleo left, she heard the front door open and shut and Alder shout out his standard greeting. “I’m home, peeps.”
Alder
. He would cheer her up. “In here,” she called out to him, tossing the magazine aside.
“Auntie Bel, whatcha doing?”
“Nothing.”
He perched on the coffee table, scrutinizing her face. “You sad?”
Behind him, Ellen White was coming in, carrying a pie. “Bella, I brought you a pie.”
She sat up. Pie? “What kind?”
“Apple.”
She clapped her hands. “Pie’s good.” The room filled with the scent of cinnamon and cooked apples and butter. “Is that a butter
crust?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“What’s for breakfast?” asked Alder.
“Whole grain pancakes.”
“What? Whole grain? Seriously, Bella, you’ve got to do
something about Mom’s health kick. She’s ruining perfectly good pancakes by putting that awful stuff in them.”
“I know,” said Bella. “But there’s nothing I can do. Plus, Peter’s here. You know what that means.”
Ellen chuckled. “You two just come on over to my house if you get hungry. I’ll make you some real pancakes.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” He grinned. “No school.”
“No school on Monday?” Bella asked.
“Parent/teacher conferences,” said Alder. “I get to stay with
Momo and Goldie.” Momo was Alder’s pet name for Ellen, and Goldie was her dog. Alder was crazy for both of them.
“Should we be worried?” asked Bella.
“About my conference?” asked Alder, looking perplexed.
“Right. Just thinking of my own experiences,” said Bella, smiling. “I wasn’t the best student.”
Ellen jumped in. “Of course not. Alder’s an excellent student.” She sniffed, somewhat judgmentally, and added, “He hardly studies because it’s all too easy for him.” She wagged her finger at him. “However, young man, it’s not a good idea to develop lazy habits just ‘cause things are easy. Someday you’ll be challenged and then you won’t have the proper study habits in place.”
“But Momo, what am I supposed to study if I already have my homework done?”
“Smart boy like you should be asking for extra credit. Matter of fact, I’m going to suggest that to your mother this morning.” She handed Alder the pie. “You take this into the kitchen. I need to talk to little miss here for a minute.”
Bella sat up, crossing her legs, readying herself for one of Ellen White’s life lessons. No idea what it would be about this time but Ellen White was always at the ready with advice, whether one asked for it or not.
She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Annie told me on the phone that Ben’s acting like a real nincompoop. Men can be
profoundly idiotic, unfortunately. But Ben’s a good one. Needs a
little grace I suspect, given this ridiculous police business.”
Bella remained quiet.
Ellen went on, speaking louder now. “I was awake last night—Vern snores like a bear some nights—and I started thinking about this whole darn thing and something occurred to me.”
Behind them, both Drake and Ben were coming out of the
kitchen. “What occurred to you?” asked Ben.
Ellen motioned for them to come sit by pointing to one of the couches. “Good, get on in here. Both of you.” If there was any doubt in anyone’s mind that Ellen White was a former high school English teacher, there certainly shouldn’t be. She eyed Ben as he sat on the opposite couch from Bella. “Where’s Peter Ball? I need him to hear this too.”
“I’m here,” said Peter, carrying a coffee cup into the room. He sat in one of the easy chairs.
“You need a chalkboard?” Ben asked Ellen, grinning. Bella
looked at him in surprise. Was he teasing Ellen? When had she last seen him smile? Three days ago. Ben glanced her way. They locked eyes for a moment before she looked away. The doorbell chimed. Who could that be?