I glanced at the alarm clock glowing on the bedside table. Three thirty. There was still a lot of night left to get through. I closed myeyes and tried to fall back asleep. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not, but Mother’s voice seemed to come out of the air-conditioning vent. “You need to clear everything up before you join us, sweetheart. Becky is counting on it.”
Becky—my beautiful, precious, brilliant Becky, taken from me far too soon. The daughter I’d loved more than life itself, yet never really had understood. I’d always thought that the secret about her real father was the reason there always seemed to be some distance, some friction, between us.
She and Charlie didn’t have that problem, not until she was older and determined to be a career woman. To Charlie’s credit, he treated her just as well as he treated Eddie when she was little—better, actually. Becky was smart as a whip and serious and hung on Charlie’s every word. Eddie, however, was easily distracted and emotional, and Charlie had been harsher with him, trying to toughen him up.
I understood Eddie. I could always read him, always empathize with his emotions. Becky and I, though, seemed to be on a different frequency. Communicating with her was like trying to listen to a radio program and getting lots of static interference. Was the secret about her conception somehow blocking us, or were we just ill-fitting personalities who couldn’t really tune in to each other’s hearts and minds? Was it my fault? Or did some mothers and daughters, through no fault of their own, just never seem to be tuned to the same channel?
34
matt
I’d had a hell of a week at work, so I was glad to just chill with the girls on Saturday. Unfortunately, their idea of chilling involved having me braid their hair so they could look like Von Trapp siblings. Apparently they’d watchedThe Sound of Musicwith Peggy while I was at the fete.
“Ow, that hurts!” Zoey said as I finished tightening the elastic band in her hair.
“Sorry, sweetie.”
Her eyes filled with dismay as she regarded herself in the hallway mirror. “It’s all crooked and lumpy.”
Sadly, it was true. One pigtail was lower than the other, and a clump of hair was pouching up above the other one. I took the comb and tried to smooth the lump to no avail. “Maybe we should go across the street and let your grandmother do it.”
“No. I want Jillian.”
“She’s not here.”
“She would be if you’d marry her.”
I was spared from having to answer by a knock on the kitchen door. Sophie opened it.
“Snowball!” she exclaimed. “You came!”
I followed Zoey around the corner and saw Hope holding her grandmother’s little dog. My heart picked up speed. “Hey there.”
“Hey.”
“Snowball wanted to come see me,” Sophie said. “She was barkin’ through the fence and Hope was in her backyard, so I asked if she could come over.”
“Sophie, you shouldn’t be bothering the neighbors.”
“It’s no bother,” Hope said. “And she’s exactly right. Snowball wanted to pay a visit.” She set the dog on the floor and held out a small ball to Sophie. “I’m sure she’d love to play outside with you.”
“Me, too!” Zoey said. Both girls ran out the back door, Von Trapps forgotten, the dog following happily behind.
“They’ve been begging me for a dog of their own,” I said, just to have something to say. Seeing Hope scrambled my thoughts.
“You should get them one. It’d be good for them to have a pet.”
I noncommittally lifted my shoulders.
Hope’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t you like dogs?”
“I think they’re great. It’s just... Christine wasn’t a dog person.”
To her credit, Hope didn’t say “So?” She didn’t even look at me like I was an idiot. She didn’t need to. I heard how ridiculous my comment sounded as soon as I said it.
“I guess it would make me feel... disloyal or something,” I tried to explain. “As if the girls were being raised contrary to the way she would have done it. I don’t know if Peggy and Griff...” I stopped myself. I ran a hand down my face. “I’m realizing how lame my reasoning is as I’m talking. Guess it’s time to move on, huh?”
Her gaze was like being wrapped in a blanket taken straight out of a warm clothes dryer. “There are no timelines for these things.”
