The Family You Choose (33 page)

"What?" He put his bag down. "What
story?"

"The one about my mother and your father.
Perhaps you remember?"

He shook his head, confused. "Why are you
bringing that up now?"

"Because it was all..." she took a deep
breath. She knew the best way to do this. "It was all a lie."

"I know," he said. "And it’s good that we
know the truth."

"It’s not the truth," she said simply. "You
weren’t telling the truth."

"Sweetheart, why now? Why do you need to
think..." he seemed to understand. "It doesn’t matter anymore. It
doesn’t matter, because it’s just like you said. It’s something in
the past that we can’t change."

He put his hands on her back and she sobbed.
"Miranda?"

She turned around, her face etched in misery.
"What’s wrong?"

"They weren’t lovers." She handed him the
smaller envelope. "They weren’t lovers."

He opened the envelope and read the document.
He read it quickly. He shook his head.

He looked up at her. Neither could speak for
a moment. She broke the silence. "You got it wrong, I guess."

"It isn’t an uncommon name," he said
desperately.

She nodded her head. "Yep, there must have
been more than one. But then what a coincidence, hmm. Don’t you
think?"

Michael sank into the couch. He looked ahead
at nothing. She needed to do this quickly, while she still
could.

"So your sick little plan worked," she said
as coldly as she could. "You finally found a way to get what you
wanted." She threw the other envelope at him. He didn’t move. "Open
it," she said simply. "It’s everything you always wanted."

He looked at her. He wasn’t crying. He was
shaking his head. He opened the document and read it. He knew what
it was more quickly than Emily or Miranda or Richard. "What the
Hell?"

"The money in question, Michael. The money
you wanted so badly. It’s mine. All mine. I mean, first it was my
mother’s, left to her by Michael Abbot Senior. And you know who
that is, right? It looks like it didn’t start out as that much,
but...my grandmother, I mean, my great-grandmother, she was pretty
conservative. And Alex made it grow even bigger. Because Alex knows
how to fix things the way he wants them."

Michael stood up. "He gave you these. You
can’t believe him."

"He gave them to Emily. She gave them to me.
And Richard checked it out." She blinked, unable to maintain her
cool. "Do you think I would have given this to you on his word
alone? I check things out now, much better than I did before."

Michael didn’t move. "I didn’t-"

"The money is yours," she said simply. "We’re
married, and I think the way it works in this state is that
whatever we have we split."

"We split?" Michael repeated as the words
sank in.

"We split. We split the assets. You’re
entitled to half, but because things are so—what’s the right word
here? Unorthodox, maybe—I’m just going to give you all of it."

"You’re going to give me all of the money?"
Michael repeated, tears coming to his eyes at last.

"All of it," she said. "I don’t want any of
it. Look at the dates, Michael. Look at the ages. Do you not know
what that means?" Her lips trembled. "And it’s perfect, isn’t it?
Because you always thought someone stole something from you. And I
guess they did, after a fashion. So now you get it back."

Michael leapt over to her and held her by the
arms. "I don’t care about any of this, do you understand? I don’t
care about the money, and I don’t care what my grandfather did.
Alex knows, Richard knows, Emily knows. I don’t care. They can keep
it quiet, or they can tell the whole world. It doesn’t matter, it
doesn’t change anything."

She looked up at the ceiling and remembered,
all of a sudden, what it was like when someone told her that her
mother was never coming back to her. Now Miranda was the one who
was gone. "It changes everything," she sobbed. "This was all a
lie."

"I didn’t lie to you," Michael said
desperately, embracing her. "I didn’t lie to you."

She wanted to tell him that she knew, but if
she did she’d never leave his arms. "The money is yours," she
repeated. "But not without conditions."

"I don’t want-"

"You’re going to quit your job, Michael.
You’re going to quit your job and you’re going to leave. Go far,
far away. I’m giving you two days. Just go—go and it’s all
yours."

"I don’t want it," he said, squeezing her
tighter, and she could feel his sobs. She laid her head on his
chest and hugged him as if she were holding on for her very life.
In a way, she was.

He took her chin to make her face him. "No,"
she said, pulling away. Because it was all over if she kissed
him.

"The money, and you go," she said.

"I don’t want—"

"But you promised, Michael," she moaned. She
leaned her forehead against the wall. " You promised you’d do
anything I asked, and I haven’t asked for anything. I’m begging you
for this." She cried a second more, closing her eyes. She knew he
wanted to touch her, but he wasn’t touching her. She knew she
should be grateful. She took a breath. "Two days, Michael. And then
it’s all yours."

She turned to the door. She started to walk
away. "Miranda," he said. She stopped and bowed her head into her
hands. No, she told herself. Just walk out now. And she did.

She ran to her car and started it, forcing
herself not to look in her rearview mirror, where she knew she’d
see him.

Richard drove Emily home. She couldn’t look
at him. "I’m sorry, Richard," she said when he got to her door. "Is
he-"

"I’m going to check on him, Em. I’ll make
sure he’s okay," Richard said gently. "I was planning on it."

Emily nodded silently. "And...what about her?
Shouldn’t someone check on her?"

Richard’s face darkened, and she understood.
She nodded again. "Please, call me—tonight or tomorrow, I don’t
care."

Richard drove off, and Emily felt empty. She
let herself in and then walked downstairs to the little apartment
she and her husband shared.

Mitch was white when he saw her. "Emily,
Emily, where have you been? You sounded so upset when you called,
and I was worried sick, and you didn’t come home, and then I didn’t
know where you were." He took a deep breath. "Is everything
okay?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her
head. He held her for half an hour, stroking her hair, telling her
everything was going to be okay. He waited until she was ready for
her story to come tumbling out. Then she told him. He had trouble
understanding, first because he didn’t want to, but then because
she kept apologizing. And then he understood. With tears in his
eyes, he stroked her pained, drawn, guilt-stricken face.

"She just lost everything."

He shook his head solemnly. "No, she didn’t.
She still has us."

"Even you?"

Mitch nodded. "Even me."

Michael watched his wife, the woman he’d
loved since he was a child, drive away. He stood still. He couldn’t
breathe. He couldn’t exist. How could there be life for him without
her?

He stepped back into his house, which had
been his home once, many years ago, when his parents had loved him.
But it wasn’t his home again until he’d shared it with her. For
many years he would have traded anything if he could have had his
parents back. But now he’d give them up and give up ever having had
them to make it possible to have her back.

He ran into the bedroom, hardly able to see
through his own tears. He needed to know she hadn’t really gone.
But he went through the drawers and closets, and everything of hers
was gone. He cried, putting his hand on their bed, which she’d laid
in last night, waiting for him to come home. Then he took off his
ring and held it to his heart.

Michael hadn’t cried like since he was seven
years old. For years, he remembered every detail of his father’s
last night as if it had been burned into his memory. He never told
anyone how much he knew or how much he wanted to forget.

Michael had come out of his room when he
heard the glass crash. He looked at Alex. He wanted to be told he
shouldn’t worry. But Alex just left.

Michael ran to his mother. "Mom!" His mother
was crumpled in the chair and crying. He’d never seen her cry like
that before. He ran over and hugged her. "Mommy, mommy! It’s going
to be okay. He’s gone now. I won’t let him in again, I promise."
And then his mother cried harder. It scared Michael, but then she
hugged him, and he thought maybe it really was going to be
okay.

"Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I wanted
everything to be good for you," his mother said through her
tears.

"Mommy, don’t cry. You’re good." Michael was
starting to cry too.

Annabelle wiped her tears and patted her
little boy’s head. "Michael, darling, how would you like to spend a
couple of days with Uncle Jimmy and Richard? I bet they’d love to
take you to the Cape for a couple of days."

"But what about you, Mom?"

"I’ve got a couple of things I need to do
here, and then I’m going to come too."

"What about Dad?"

Annabelle’s eyes teared up again, but she
didn’t cry. "I don’t think he can come this time. But you’ll see
Dad again, I promise. Okay?" She nodded her head, so he nodded too.
"So I’m going to call Uncle Jimmy and I’m going to have him pick
you up tonight. Is that okay?"

"That’s okay, Mom." It wasn’t fair for her to
ask, because it wasn’t a question. "So I want you to go to your
room and start packing up, okay? That’s my good boy." Annabelle
kissed him on the head as she guided him to his room.

He heard his mother pick up the phone. He
heard her cry a little bit. Then he heard her put the receiver
down. So he was going. He picked out his clothes. He picked out
some comic books to take too. He had just turned his attention to
the baseball glove when he heard the front door open. He froze.
What should he do?

"Bastard!" He heard accompanied by a hard
slap. They were in the front hall. His heart beating very fast, he
opened the door just a little bit. His mother had his back to him.
His father was standing off to the side. But there was someone
else, a very pretty blonde woman.

"How dare you?" It must have been the third
time his mother had said that tonight. He could hear the exhaustion
in her voice. "You have the nerve to bring your mistress here?"

"Anna, please calm down."

"How long were you going to play me for a
fool?" She was crying again. "Did you think you could hide this
forever? Did you think I wouldn’t care? How long were you going to
lie to me?"

Stephen put his hands on Annabelle’s
shoulders. She cried more. "I came here to tell you the truth,
Anna. I swear. I’m sorry it’s taken this long."

"And you had to bring her with you?" she
said, shaking her head. Michael could tell she was looking at the
blonde woman. "What did you do, switch off between Alex and my
husband? Did you want to figure out which one could do more for
you? So what did you decide, you gold-digging whore?"

"Stephen, tell her now."

Michael could see the tears in his father’s
eyes. Michael could see him clearly, but his father only had eyes
for his mother. "Tatiana, please. Wait. Please. Can’t you see this
isn’t the time?"

And now the blonde woman was crying. "How
long, Stephen? How long do I have to be everyone’s dirty little
secret?" And then her eyes locked onto Michael. "Oh, God," she
said. "Enough. Enough! Forget I ever met you. That’s what I’m going
to do."

"Tatiana, please-"

"Go to Hell! Go back to your perfect little
life—I’m sorry I interrupted it!" She ran out the door.

"Wait!" Stephen called out, but she didn’t
stop. Stephen cursed as he ran down the stairs. Michael opened the
door wider. He saw the blonde woman get into the car, and then he
saw his father get in too. And then it drove away. And that was the
last time Michael Abbot ever saw his father.

Annabelle cried again, much worse than she
had before. Michael closed the door now, terrified.

It was only thirty minutes later, but it
seemed like an eternity. He heard the front door open, and then
there was a knock on his door. It was Richard, already so tall and
in his first pair of glasses. He smiled when he saw Michael, but
then his face fell. "What’s wrong champ?" Michael didn’t say
anything. He just threw his arms around Richard and whimpered that
he wanted his dad to come back.

Richard was shushing Michael, telling him
everything was going to be okay and that they were going to go to
the Cape tomorrow when there was a knock on the front door. The
children went out into the hall. Annabelle and Jim answered the
door. It was a man in a policeman’s uniform wearing a big hat. He
looked so serious. Michael couldn’t hear what they were saying, but
he saw his mother crumple into his uncle’s chest. "Oh, God. Oh no!
No, no, no, no! Stephen! Stephen!" Michael cried too, because he
knew his father was never coming back now.

Richard found Michael two hours after Miranda
left, still crying in his bedroom, clutching his hand to his chest.
"Michael, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry." Michael couldn’t say
anything. All he could do was cry more. Richard looked like he
knew, like he understood. But no one, no one, was ever going to
know how much he loved her.

After another hour, Richard helped Michael
into bed. Even in his sleep, Michael clutched the ring to his
chest.

~~~

Again Miranda found refuge at the beach on
Magnolia. It was just a little warmer than it had been that night,
the first night…. the first night with Michael. Miranda remembered
how repulsed she’d been, how much she’d hated him and how she was
using him because she hated herself. But now she would have given
anything to go back to him again, even as he’d been.