September Canvas (29 page)

“Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I know that now. I mean, intellectually I realize that. I’ve seen how Miranda has thrived at the school, learned skills I never thought possible. It was the right decision to give her that opportunity.” Deanna rubbed her thumbs over her mother’s hands. “And my feeling of being replaced won’t go away easily.”

“Neither will the pain you caused when you gave me that ultimatum. You opted out of our life, Deanna. One day you called me every name in the book, and the next you were gone and I didn’t even know where you were for months.”

“We can’t deny that we’ve caused a lot of pain. We can’t erase it and pretend it never happened.”

“I suppose. But maybe we can learn to live with it eventually?” Angela’s hopeful tone was heartbreaking, and Faythe wondered what was going through Deanna’s mind.

“I’m willing to try.” Deanna spoke abruptly, but kept her physical connection with her mother. “Now, our main concern is Miranda. We can’t allow Gloria access to her. You have full custody of her, Mom.”

“Perhaps now is the best time to talk to Deanna about our plans, honey?” Percy said, and everyone looked at him.

“Plans?” Deanna snapped her head back toward her mother.

“Percy’s right. Come here. Sit next to me.” Angela patted the couch cushion. “Trista and Laney want to attend a private school in Manhattan, and they both have made such good grades that they’ve received full scholarships. Percy’s office is opening a new branch in New York, which they want him to head up.” Angela looked almost afraid when she tried to smile despite trembling lips. “I want to move Miranda to another facility, very much like this one, but with actual college classes available for young people at her level.”

“Move her?” Deanna looked shell-shocked. “When did you know about this?”

“About the girls applying, I’ve known for quite some time. But about the scholarships and Percy’s job? Three days.”

“Ah.” Deanna stood and walked over to the window. “Guess that’s the answer. All you have to do is move Miranda out of Gloria’s reach and—”

“No, no. That’s not the answer to everything. This woman has caused you harm. She will
not
get away with it.” Angela was fuming.

“If we’re going to have a chance to function as a family, all six of us, we must show solidarity with every single family member and not allow anyone to sacrifice herself.”

“Okay.” Deanna looked at Faythe, her eyes black with stormy emotions. “Okay, Mom.”

“We’re here to plot and plan, I suppose.” Percy produced a small PDA phone. “Planning is what I do. I have a flow sheet that, when properly applied, will keep us from forgetting any angles and minimize the risk of making a mistake.”

Faythe had to pinch her thigh hard so she wouldn’t giggle.

Suddenly Pammie and Samantha were sitting on the armrests on either side of Percy as he drew up the basic plan, and their interest in his tech toy seemed to charm him.

Faythe moved to Angela’s other side, cupping Deanna’s cheek briefly. Angela gazed warmly at them. “While they’re doing the planning, why don’t you two tell me what your relationship is exactly?” She sounded genuinely interested. “Are you a couple?”

“Mom!”

“Well, I have years of questions to ask. So, are you?” Angela looked quite hopeful at the thought.

“Not exactly—” Deanna began.

“Yes. Yes, we are a couple.” Faythe heard herself speak, but couldn’t fathom her own words. This was probably the scariest, most spontaneous thing she’d ever done. Deanna’s eyes darkened even more, yet a new light went on as soon as Faythe spoke. No matter how their plan to deal with Gloria turned out, Faythe vowed she would not be responsible for snuffing out that light.

Miranda was dressed in black jeans and a light blue T-shirt adorned with a flowery pattern she had created herself during art class, using potatoes as stamps. Deanna’s heart was ready to explode with all the overflowing love she felt for her sister. It had taken Deanna more than half an hour to convince Miranda that packing a suitcase with her most beloved possessions and a few changes of clothes was part of what Miranda labeled “surprise fun,” a term they always used when it was necessary to break Miranda’s routines. Miranda was always suspicious when it came to surprises, and today had not been any different. Now Deanna snapped the suitcase closed, and with an arm around her, she guided her out of the room she’d lived in for nearly ten years, except for summer breaks and holidays.

Outside, Irene Costa was waiting to say good-bye, clearly struggling not to cry and upset Miranda. Faythe stood next to her, according to their plan, carefully recorded into Percy’s flow sheet four days ago. She had informed Irene of every sordid detail while Deanna helped Miranda.

“Deanna,” Irene said, her voice choked. “I never liked her, but I had no idea. I wish you’d told me. I could have kept her away from Miranda.”

“You couldn’t work twenty-four/seven, Irene.” Deanna shook her head sadly. “There would always have been the risk that she would sneak into Miranda’s room and scare the living daylights out of her. Your duty was toward Miranda, and you’ve been great. Absolutely fantastic. Miranda’s done so well here, and you’re very much the reason for that.”

“I’m going to miss her.” Irene’s voice broke and she drew a deep breath. “Here she is now.” She smiled brightly at Miranda, who left her room behind Deanna, carrying her beloved pink roller bag. “Got everything, honey?”

“Yes. My bag.” Miranda patted the handle lovingly.

“Your pink bag. Goes so well with your outfit, Miranda.” Irene looked like she wanted to hug Miranda and not let go, but instead she merely kissed her forehead. “Have fun and let’s talk on the phone, all right?”

“Yes. All right.” Miranda nodded. “Chat.”

“Exactly. We’ll chat.” Irene stood and waved as they walked down the corridor.

Faythe helped Miranda stow her bag into the trunk of Deanna’s car, and it warmed Deanna’s heart to see how readily Miranda seemed to accept Faythe’s presence. Faythe, in turn, behaved as if she’d been around Miranda all her life, mindful of her personal space, which was larger than most people’s.

“Where do you want to sit, Miranda?” Faythe asked. “Backseat or up front?”

Miranda halted and looked confused. “We have to buckle up,” she said uncertainly.

“Miranda always sits in the back. The front seat is probably a little too daunting for her.” Deanna pointed at the passenger door to the right.

“Take your seat, young lady.”

Miranda opened the door and climbed in. She buckled up meticulously and draped her pink scarf across her handbag. This was her routine every time she rode in a car, and Deanna knew it provided comfort and a sense of security.

They drove off, heading for Faythe’s house where the others were waiting. Deanna worried how Miranda would respond to the fact that her mother was there as part of the surprise, as well as Savannah and Pammie.

“Are you all right, baby?” Faythe asked quietly, briefly touching Deanna’s thigh. “You’re gripping that steering wheel so tight, I may have to pry you off when we get to the house.”

“Oh, right.” Deanna loosened her grip. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bit nervous.”

“No wonder. But we’ll be fine. Miranda will be fine too, and so will your folks. I was impressed with how your mother took charge and also how incredibly organized Percy is. That flow sheet on his phone was something.”

Deanna had to laugh. “That’s Percy for you. Before we got crosswise with each other, we had some interesting conversations and…well, I suppose if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have found him half bad.”

“It’s not too late to get to know each other.” Faythe suddenly looked wistful. “I wonder if I’ll ever get on the right foot with my father again. I mean, my mother I can deal with. She’s a bit shallow, but since I know that, I can factor it into everything she says.” She sighed. “My father, though, is a whole different ballgame. I don’t think he cares about me as a person. I’m an asset. He’ll use my ‘fame’ in a heartbeat to gain advantages, which really sucks. I only want him to see me as his daughter, someone he loves, regardless. Talk about Utopia.” Faythe looked out the passenger window, drumming her fingertips on the armrest.

“We all want to be validated by our parents.” Deanna wanted to smooth away the wrinkles that marred Faythe’s forehead. “You’re not asking for anything that ought to be too much for them to figure out. If they can’t bring themselves to see you for the amazing woman that you are, then it’s not your fault and they don’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, baby. I know. I mean, intellectually I know that.”

“And in your heart?”

“In my heart, I just want my dad to say he’s proud of me, that he believes in me. But I may have to face the fact that it’s not going to happen.” Faythe looked composed, but her voice was hollow in a way that infuriated Deanna. She had a second chance to patch things up with Angela, and now Faythe was the one with a long list of unsolved family issues.

“No matter what, you know I’m in your corner, right?” Deanna took Faythe’s hand, keeping the other firmly on the wheel and her eyes focused on the road. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, all categories. You’ve made all the difference in my life.”

“Deanna—”

“You have. You know how depressed and resigned I was. I didn’t see any end to any of this, and you just didn’t give up. As infuriated as I was occasionally, you didn’t stop. And it looks like I’ll have my life back soon. I never anticipated that. Frankly, I had given up.”

“You were suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, if you ask me,” Faythe said in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder. “Wow, she’s asleep already. What have we been driving for, five minutes?” Deanna checked her rearview mirror and saw Miranda’s head resting against the neck support. “Oh, she does that. I think she finds the outside world so stressful, she simply conks out.” Turning on to the road leading to the lake, she mulled over Faythe’s words. “PTSD? Really?”

“Obviously, I’m no psychiatrist, but your reactions are completely understandable from that point of view.” Squeezing Deanna’s hand, Faythe raised it to her lips and kissed it gently. “It’s about to end, though, baby.”

“I know. It’s just…I have this dreadful feeling that this will blow up in my face and become even worse for everybody.” Deanna checked the rearview mirror again. Miranda was still asleep, her pink lips slightly parted. It wasn’t often she saw Miranda this relaxed while she was awake, if ever, and Deanna had to force herself to return her attention to the road ahead.

“If it does, and I don’t think it will, you’ll have your family behind you. And the girls. And me.” Faythe winked. “It will be interesting to see what Pammie and Savannah managed to do with the
Grantville
Times
. Was it Pammie’s aunt who was the chief editor, or was it Savannah’s?”

“Fortunately for us, it was Pammie’s. Her father’s youngest sister, I believe.”

“Ah. Yes, I remember. Lucky. If it had been a relative of Savannah’s, they would most likely have been under Gloria’s spell.”

“Under her thumb, you mean?”

“That too.” Faythe wrinkled her nose, looking cuter than she’d ever want to know. “Pammie said that she let Savannah do all the writing, since this has to come from her, in her own words. If anyone else meddled in it, it could be a long, interesting time in court for the
Grantville Times
.”

“Still could be, I suppose.” Deanna shuddered at the thought.

“Hardly, if Savannah has written it the right way.”

“Well, you’re the media expert here, and I trust your judgment. Here we are.” Deanna turned off the road and onto the driveway leading up to their houses. She stopped next to Pammie’s little Toyota, which was parked behind Percy and Angela’s Chrysler 300.

The door flew open just as Deanna engaged the parking brake and turned off the ignition. Two whirlwinds moved toward the car and Deanna barely recognized her two stepsisters. “Something’s wrong,” she muttered, glancing nervously at the backseat. Miranda was still asleep.

“What? What’s the matter?” Faythe looked alarmed.

“They’re smiling. The bra— The kids. They’re smiling.” It was true. Trista and Laney were rapidly approaching, looking excited.

“So they are.” Faythe seemed to catch on quickly. “I’ll go while you wake Miranda.”

“Thanks.” As Deanna circled the car and opened the passenger door, she glanced over her shoulder, worried about what might be going on. Were the two teenyboppers there to gloat, or what? This didn’t look good.

“Hi Trista, Laney,” Faythe said, stopping in front of the two excited girls. “Hold it just a second, okay? Miranda’s asleep in the backseat, and you know how easy it is to spook her. If she sees the two of you hovering, no matter how happy you are to see her, she might get scared and freak out.”

“Oh,” Laney said, and the corners of her mouth turned down. She wasn’t pleased that anyone would keep her waiting. “We just wanted to talk to Deanna really quick.”

“Well, you’ll have time for that. I suppose you came with Angela and Percy after all. I mean, it’s Wednesday, a regular school day.” Faythe put one arm around each girl’s shoulders and moved them toward the house. “I’m so glad you came to support your stepsisters,” she said, playing devil’s advocate.

“Eh, well, yeah. We wanted to know what was going on. Angela and Dad have been so secretive. Mysterious, even.” Trista smirked. “So we nagged them into letting us come. We also wanted another chance to hang with you and hear about all the celebrities you meet and stuff. We sure got everyone’s attention at school when we told them we met you.” Faythe exhaled slowly, suppressing an exasperated groan. She could just imagine being the topic among the girls at the girls’ school.

“Great,” she murmured. “So, will you promise me not to crowd Miranda? If you give her some space and a little time, you’ll be surprised how brilliant she is.”

“Brilliant? Her?” Trista glanced over her shoulder. “She’s retarded.”

“That’s such a dreary word, Trista.” Faythe wanted to pinch the ignorant girl. “Miranda has autism, and I’m sure Angela and Percy have told you what that means. “