Home with My Sisters (17 page)

Yvette turned and stared into Hope's eyes. “He was your father's best friend.”

Hope didn't know what she was expecting, but that was not it. She did not remember her father having a best friend. Then again, why wouldn't he? Hope would have to have a talk with Carla. “Why won't he talk?” Hope wasn't going to let on that Austin had already told her everything.

“He has TBI.”

“What's TBI?”

“Traumatic brain injury.”

“Oh. That's so sad. What happened?”

“Car accident,” Yvette said quietly.

This was the moment Hope had been waiting for. She whirled around. Yvette refused to meet her eyes. “Was he in the car with my father that night?” Hope felt a lump in her throat as she asked it.

Tears pooled in Yvette's eyes. “Yes,” she said.

Hope felt her stomach drop, but she couldn't stop now. “Was my father driving?” Yvette nodded. Hope didn't want to ask the next question, but she didn't have a choice. She had to know. “Had he been drinking?” Yvette swallowed. Her wrinkled Adam's apple brought a pang of grief straight to Hope's heart. For a second she didn't see a cranky grandmother dishing out ultimatums. She saw a mother who had lost her only son. She saw a woman in a great deal of pain. Yvette simply nodded again.

Hope sidled up and took her grandmother's hand. At first it was cold and limp. And then her grandmother squeezed her hand back as Roger and Austin returned carrying reindeer between them. Roger met her eyes and Hope smiled. He winked. Hope bit the side of her mouth. Did he ever talk? Could he talk? She would ask more questions later; from the way Yvette was almost collapsing beside her, the old lady had answered enough questions for now. But God, Hope prayed that he could talk. And remember. She prayed he could tell them whether or not her father was really coming for them.

CHAPTER 18

 

Hope sat beside Faith with Joy squirming in her lap. The sun was beaming in from the window behind her, warming her back. Faith, as always patient and still. Their father was dressed as Santa Claus, but even with the long white beard he hadn't fooled them for a second. He had a large bag slung over his shoulder and Hope was wide-eyed anticipating the gifts within.

“Tom,” their mother called from the kitchen, a cigarette propped between her fingers. “Christmas is six months away.”

“Christmas is a frame of mind,” their father said. “Besides, this is the perfect card.” He looked at Hope and winked. She giggled.
Don't let Mom ruin this!

“I can wait,” Faith said.
Of course she can.

“I can't,” Hope said.

Joy let out a loud belch. Everyone laughed, including their mother.

“Do you know what's more fun than getting presents?” their father said.

“Decorating the tree?” Faith said, her brows furled in concentration.

Hope couldn't think of a single answer, although she did like decorating the tree, and singing Christmas carols, and watching
Rudolph,
and
Frosty,
and
The Year Without a Santa Claus.

“Eating cookies?” Hope finally said.

“You're being ridiculous,” Faith said, lifting her chin. “It's giving Santa cookies and milk.” Hope felt the hot flush of humiliation wash over her. Oh. She thought of herself before Santa. That couldn't be good.

But her father wasn't mad, he just laughed and set the bag down. He began to remove brightly wrapped packages from the bag and put them under the tree. They had just decorated it for Baby Joy. Hope could tell her father loved Christmas just as much as she did. Maybe even more. And he was telling the truth, it didn't seem to be the present part that he liked most. He liked giving to others. He liked giving to his girls. He always went overboard, as their mother always told him.

Joy started to scream. Her mother took her out of Hope's lap. Hope cheered. Joy was too heavy. “What do you want for Christmas, Daddy?” Hope asked, lurching to her feet and clutching his hand. Her fingers were sticky from a candy cane she'd just inhaled, but he didn't seem to mind. He hoisted her up and swung her around.

“I've got everything I ever wished for with you three elves,” he said.

“We're not elves,” Faith said. “We're your daughters.”

Their father threw his head back and laughed. “They're not elves,” he called to their mother. “They're our daughters.” Their mother stabbed out her cigarette and rolled her eyes.

“Too bad,” she said. “Elves have jobs.”

* * *

Faith pulled into the estate, and for a minute thought she was seeing things. There were Christmas decorations splayed out all over the yard. A ladder was propped up next to the largest pine tree on the estate. Lights were already strung around the bottom branches. So far there were reindeer and a sleigh, a mechanical angel, red bows, and wreaths. Hope, Austin, that strange caretaker, and her grandmother were all involved in one decorating activity or the other. There looked to be at least half a foot of snow covering the grounds and it was still coming down.

“What the freak?” Joy said. Faith had already lectured her about swearing in front of the kids and she was doing a pretty good job of containing herself.

“Told you,” Harrison said. “Snow makes white folks all freaky.”

“You squealed when you saw it was snowing and you know it,” Joy said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Brittany said. “We're celebrating Christmas!” She was the first to unlock her door and tumble out. She made a beeline for Hope.

“She likes Hope better than me,” Joy said.

“Can I go into the woods?” Josh said.

“Everyone's decorating,” Harrison said. “Come on, Little Dude. Let's help.”

“Don't ever call me a little dude again.”

Harrison laughed. “Deal. Come on, Big Dude. Let's go see if they need help.” Josh rolled his eyes and the two got out of the car and headed for the group. Faith waited for Joy to leave. She wanted to call Charlie and she wanted to pop another Xanax. Why wasn't Joy racing off after Harrison?

“Hope wins again,” Joy said.

“What?”

Joy pointed out the window. “Look what she's making them do.”

“So what?” Faith said. She was a little tired of all the arguing, and she didn't want to give Joy the impression that she was onboard for ganging up on Hope. Being this close to her again was bringing back those protective feelings. Hope was always so . . . well—
hopeful
. Faith felt the familiar guilt tugging at her heart. Maybe she should have taken Hope and Joy with her. Then again Stephen's mother didn't even like her; imagine if she had had all three of them. And even though she knew it was painful for her, Faith realized now that the separation had been good for Hope. She was a lot less clingy than she used to be. And she was making an effort. Faith applauded that. If only Joy was a little more like Hope.

“She should be eliminated from the inheritance,” Joy said as she began to pace.

Faith turned to Joy and stared her in the eyes. “You're not seriously thinking that Hope would have been cut out of the estate?”

“Granny said—”

“I'm not talking about what that old lady says. You don't seriously think we would have cut Hope out of this, do you?”

Joy shrugged, that pouty, defiant look on her face that Faith remembered so well. “If she leaves it to us at all, then it will belong equally to the three of us,” Faith said.

“What do you mean ‘if'?”

“I don't trust her,” Faith said. “She's toying with us.”

“So you think it's fair to split it equally?” There was an edge to Joy's voice. She was referencing the fact that Faith made more money. Again. They'd failed her. They'd spoiled Joy to death and babied her, and let her get away with pretty much everything. And now the little brat had turned into a big one. Why had she picked a fight with Hope in the restaurant when it was Joy they should be straightening out? She needed to be back in San Fran so she could relax with a Pilates class. And she was definitely crankier without her kale smoothies. Hope could chide all she wanted, but kale was magical. And Charlie. She missed Charlie. Waiting until after the holidays were over to be together was the right decision, but it was so, so hard. She needed the Xanax. Even if she was taking a bit too much. Who didn't overdo it during the holidays?

“We're not entitled to any of this, anyway,” Faith said. “It belonged to her late husband, who wasn't our grandfather and never even met us.”

“We'll sell it, won't we?”

“Would you even be here if it wasn't for the inheritance?”

Joy looked at Faith. If captions appeared above her head they would read:
CALCULATING ALL RESPONSES TO SEE WHICH SUITS ME BEST.
Faith had an urge to shove her out of the truck. “Probably not,” Joy said in a singsong voice and then opened the door, jumped out, and slammed it shut. Faith's hand shook as she reached for her friend, her only friend these days, the little orange bottle. The pills themselves were only temporary friends; it was the bottle that housed them all that gave her comfort. How many had she taken today? If she was being honest—and she would be honest with herself—it was only when you weren't honest with yourself that it was a problem, right? So she'd taken two more today than she should have. Just two more. That wasn't too bad. This would be her last one for today. She needed the bottle to last through Christmas and even a little beyond—unless she could get a call in to her doctor and have them refill her prescription.

She dialed Charlie, and there it was, the tell-tale pounding of her heart. “Pick up,” she said as she listened to it ring. “Please, pick up.” Charlie was mad at her. Mad for coming here alone. What was Faith supposed to do? Introduce her new lover to the kids before she announced the divorce? No way. She was going to end up the bad guy no matter what, but she wasn't going to be the bad guy and the Mom Who Ruined Christmas Forever. She wanted to wait until way after the holidays—let them get used to the divorce first. Maybe they could announce it in March—were there any holidays in March? Just Saint Patrick's Day. That was certainly better than Easter.

Charlie's voice mail picked up. Faith hung up. Charlie was screening. Or was Faith just being paranoid? She couldn't expect Charlie to just sit around waiting for Faith to call. Maybe she should force herself to stay with Stephen until the kids were out of the house. Another three years for Josh, but Brittany had a ways to go. Faith certainly didn't want to rush those years. But she didn't want to lose out on love either. Would Charlie wait that long? Not a chance. Charlie didn't have children, and was already making allowances for Faith. Three years was ridiculous to ask of anyone. Besides, she'd already told Stephen everything and she certainly wasn't going to do that to him. She looked outside. Everyone was just a blur through the snowflakes. She clutched her phone in one hand and bottle of Xanax in the other. “Merry freaking Christmas.”

* * *

Hope was following Roger through the woods, enjoying tromping in the snow. They had done as much decorating as they could, and when Roger turned for the woods, Hope decided to follow him. Besides, she loved walking at night in a snowstorm. Then again, she was going to have to turn around and retrace her steps if she lost sight of Roger. Even though he hadn't turned around and acknowledged her, she got the feeling he knew she was following. She had just decided to pick up her pace when someone grabbed her arm. She let out a scream and whirled around to find Faith towering over her.

“You scared me,” Hope said.

“What are you doing out here?”

Up ahead Roger stopped but didn't turn around.

“I'm exercising.”

“Try again.”

I could be exercising!
“Just exploring.”

“You're going to get lost.”

“I don't think he would let that happen.” Hope pointed at Roger, barely visible through the falling snow.

Faith tipped her head back. “They look like stars,” she said as the snowflakes hit her face. “Snow stars.”

Hope laughed. “Snow stars,” she repeated. She linked arms with Faith. “Let's not keep our tour guide waiting.” They started up again, and a few minutes later so did Roger.

Faith released her arm but kept walking. “I think my kids hate me.”

“Brittany adores you,” Hope said.

“Okay. I think my son hates me.”

Hope thought of the look on Josh's face and the way in which he said,
One of her phone calls.

“What?” Faith stepped closer.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were thinking something.” There was barely any light to see by, so Faith had been reading Hope's energy. It was like that with family. “Out with it.”

“Just who are you calling all the time?” The words tumbled out of Hope's mouth.

Faith stopped. “What do you mean?”

Hope sighed. She didn't want to get into another fight with Faith, but the only thing worse than opening your mouth around her was not talking once you started. She was going to have to see this through. And maybe it was time. “Josh made a comment about ‘one of your phone calls.' ”

“Oh,” Faith said. “I don't think he's upset about that.”

“He sure sounded upset. And then he and Brittany exchanged a look like they'd been discussing that very topic.” Hope felt instantly guilty for betraying her niece and nephew's confidence, but she also wanted them all to resolve this.

“It couldn't be that,” Faith said. “I'm sure they don't know anything.”

“Don't know what?”

“Never mind.”

“Listen. You want to keep secrets from me—go ahead. And you might think you're fooling Brittany and Josh with whatever it is you're doing, but you're not. They might not know everything, but they certainly know something.”

“It's nobody's business,” Faith called.

“Whatever you say,” Hope said. “If you want to walk with us, walk with us. Otherwise, leave me to enjoy the woods.”

“He doesn't talk at all?” Faith whispered when they had come to a stop at a clearing. Roger turned around.

“I can talk,” he said. “I can talk.” The words were slow and labored coming out of his mouth as if they had taken considerable effort. His voice was gruff and scratchy, like an old record that hadn't been played in years. Hope knew her jaw had just dropped open, and she tried to be subtle about closing it.

“Good,” Faith said. “That's good.”

“Good,” Roger repeated.

“You knew our father?” Hope said. She stepped closer.

“What?” Faith's voice rang with alarm.

Hope turned to her. “I just found out.”

“You knew Daddy?” Hope cringed a little when Faith said it—it was hardly fitting for a grown woman to still use the term
Daddy
. Hope could hardly judge her, she had done it herself. Roger turned away from them. “Hello?” Faith said. “Did you understand me?”

Hope tugged on her coat sleeve. “Take it easy,” she said.

“Were you friends?” Faith persisted.

“Good friends,” Hope whispered. She smacked Faith lightly across the stomach. With all the padding it couldn't have hurt, but it elicited another flash of anger from Faith.