Something she could believe, Victoria thought as they drove up to the porch. But her mother would have a whole lot more than concern on her mind.
Ava moved toward them, all tall, blonde and elegantly dressed. Had this been the 1940s, she would have been wearing pearls. The expensive ones from Tahiti. She was the kind of woman who took charge of every situation, who always knew exactly what to do, regardless of circumstances. She was polite, intelligent, emotionally contained and never, ever cried. Victoria wasn’t sure the woman had ever once broken into a sweat. They had nothing in common.
Being adopted, she didn’t look like her father either, but somehow that didn’t bother her as much. Around her mother she felt like a small, dark-haired anomaly. Or possibly another species. She was petite, athletic and restless. Rumor had it as a child, she’d literally been unable to sit still for more than thirty seconds. In the second grade, one of her better teachers had insisted she run laps around the playground at the top of every hour. Ava hadn’t appreciated the suggestion, but for Victoria,it had worked. After her run, she was able to focus—at least better than she had.
It was a lesson she’d carried through her life. Even now, before she went to work on her screenplay, she took a run. Not anything that she would be doing in the short-term, she thought as her mother moved to the SUV and opened the passenger door.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks, Mom. I feel terrible, and I know how much you like things to match.”
Up close her mother was beautiful. Wide blue eyes, perfect skin, almost no wrinkles. At some point Victoria was going to have to ask her about her skin care regimen, because whatever she did, it was working. But probably not today. She doubted any product would sit well on her black eyes.
“I tried to get a ramp put in,” Ava said, ignoring her daughter’s humor, “but there wasn’t time.”
A ramp for...? Ah. Vitoria eyed the three stairs leading up to the front door.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re on crutches and you have a broken leg. That’s no one’s definition offine.”
“It’s an incomplete fracture of the fibula. Hardly worth mentioning.”
A faint frown pulled Ava’s eyebrows toward each other. “And bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and black eyes, not to mention whatever other bruises you have. I suppose they’re nothing either?”
Victoria managed a smile before bracing herself to turn toward the door so she could get out of the SUV. “You should see the other guy.”
“Victoria.”
“I know, I know. I’m incorrigible. That time you and Dad nearly put me in juvie? You should have done it for my own good.”
As her rebellions had all been against her mother rather thanthe world, she’d never had a life of crime, and juvenile detention had never been an issue, but she had to admit she kind of liked riling up Ava. Her mother instinctively took a step back and looked to her husband for guidance.
“Do something,” her mother murmured.
He briefly touched Ava’s shoulder before looking at Victoria. “You couldn’t wait five minutes to start being a brat?”
She eyed the stairs she was going to have to take to get in the house. “In five minutes, I’m going to want to throw up, so being funny then won’t be an option.”
He stepped toward her. “Tell me how to help.”
“I don’t think you can.” She slid out of the vehicle, gently landing on her good leg. Her father handed her the crutches. Three stairs, she told herself. She could do it.
She took a single hop-step and nearly moaned as pain ripped through her, despite the shot. Both her parents instinctively moved closer.
“Don’t,” she said, not looking at them. “And whatever you do, if you ever loved me, don’t put your arms around my waist to help.”
Because that would squeeze her ribs, and she honest to God didn’t think she could get through that without vomiting or passing out.
“How about if we support you under your elbows,” her mother said. “You’re strong enough to hold the position, and we can take most of your weight.”
Victoria considered the suggestion, then nodded. She put her crutches on the first step and bent her arms, bracing herself. Her father took one side and her mom the other.
“On three,” Ava said. “One, two, three.”
They lifted and Victoria pushed off the ground at the same time. The world blurred as pain exploded, sweat broke out on her back and that fairly light breakfast she’d eaten rose in her throat.
She ignored it all. Two more steps, she told herself as she gritted her teeth. Then she was done.
