Winner Takes All (24 page)

The sad truth was, she wasn't any closer today than when her divorce had been finalized. What did that say about her? That her standards were too high? That maybe she didn't show enough interest in the men around her?

Except there was one who'd been getting all of her interest. Problem was, he had no plans to settle down with anyone. He didn't want to. Which left Annabelle in a strange sort of limbo, because she had no desire for anyone else.

She wanted an unattainable man. Story of her life.

“Annabelle,” Ruth continued. “I've told you before I have no problems living in a retirement community.”

Annabelle held her hand up. “Mom, stop. You're not going into a home because you're too young. The people in there are…”

“Are what?” Ruth demanded. “Dependent, like me? I'm not as young as you think I am, honey. My medical conditions make me different from other women my age.”

“You're only in your sixties,” Annabelle reminded her mother.

“Oh for Pete's sake, I'm not talking about you sticking me in some nursing home. I mean maybe a condo in a gated community with people my own age. There are some places that offer twenty-four-hour assistance and on-call nurses.” Ruth huffed out a breath. “Annabelle, I know why you take care of me.”

“Because you need help,” she reminded her mother. Why did the woman have to be so damn stubborn?

Ruth shook her head. “You do it because you like to be needed,” she told her daughter. “No, you
need
to be needed. Just like I did.”

“Mom, what're you talking about? I don't need that.” Except Annabelle was pretty sure her mother was right.

“Yes, you do,” Ruth said. “I used to be the same way. That's why I had such a hard time when Naomi moved away. When you see your youngest child take control of their own life, reality sets in and it's hard to swallow. You go from spending every waking moment taking care of these other people, and suddenly they don't need you anymore.” Ruth stared at Annabelle with understanding and also a little bit of sympathy. “Having all that free time on your hands can take a while to get used to.”

Annabelle shook her head again. “Mom—”

“I'll admit at first,” Ruth interrupted, “I loved having you here all the time. But now, you're just driving me crazy, Annabelle.”

Wait, what?

“I didn't realize I was annoying you,” Annabelle admitted, trying to squash the hurt.

Ruth leaned back in her chair. “Of course you don't annoy me. I just mean I know how much you're giving up to take care of me.”

“I'm not giving anything up,” she argued. “And you need me. That's why I'm here.”

“What I need is for my daughter to be happy, and you're not happy. You haven't been happy since your divorce.”

“I'm happy, Mom,” Annabelle said in a low voice.

“But are you fulfilled? Because there's a difference between being content and being fulfilled.”

To be honest, Annabelle hadn't realized there was a difference. Probably because she'd never thought about it before. Yeah, she was happy. At least she'd thought she was, until her mother, the realist she was, removed her rose-colored glasses and made Annabelle take a harder look at her own life.

Had she been deluding herself all these years? Telling herself being single wasn't that bad? That yes, she'd love to get married again and have kids but that this was okay too. Going home to an empty house, not having that special partner to share life's complications and joys with wasn't a big deal.

But you already know that's not true.

That pesky voice in her head, the one that always burst her bubble, chimed in. She had realized what she'd been missing out on. And it had hit her in the form of a six-foot-three behemoth of a man who made her laugh and feel and crave. Blake Carpenter wasn't an easy man to be around but maybe that's what she loved about him. He was complicated and deep, and a part of her connected with that.

She hadn't realized how much she really missed having another half until Blake. It also made her realize that her mother was right. True, Annabelle was happy. But not truly fulfilled.

The thing was, she didn't know how to fix it. And she was a fixer.

“Now I've gone and ruined breakfast,” her mother said.

Annabelle set her empty plate on the coffee table. “You haven't ruined anything, Mom. I appreciate your honesty.” She stared down at her clasped hands. “You're also right. I've grown complacent with where my life is.”

Ruth nodded. “I know. It's time you start focusing on yourself. It's not normal for a woman as beautiful as you to spend all her free time at her mother's house.”

The compliment warmed Annabelle from the inside out, because Ruth hadn't made a habit of tossing those out so casually. She was a tell-it-like-it-is kind of woman and rarely wasted time with pleasantries or beating around the bush. A trait both her daughters had inherited. Which was probably why she and her sister bickered so much.

At the thought of Naomi, the front door swung open and the woman in question came breezing through. A wide smile flashed across her face as Naomi pulled out her earbuds and set them, along with her iPod, on the hall table.

Charlie, the menace to society he was, launched himself off the recliner and ran toward Naomi, yapping away.

Naomi shot her foot out and shooed the dog away. “You see me every day,” she said to the dog. “Why are you barking at me?” Naomi rolled her eyes. “Mom, your dog. He is so annoying.”

Then she grinned at Annabelle and Ruth as though she'd just noticed their presence.

“Hey,” she said, totally oblivious to the fact that Annabelle and Ruth had already eaten breakfast. The breakfast Naomi was supposed to make.

Annabelle took in her sister's running shoes, racer-back tank, and cropped leggings.

“We were wondering if you were going to come back,” Ruth commented.

“What do you mean?” Naomi asked as she flopped down on the sofa, a fine sheen of sweat covering her chest and face.

“You've been gone quite a while,” Annabelle told her sister. “Mom and I had to do breakfast.”

“I told you I would make it. I was just going to do it when I got back.”

Annabelle glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It's nine forty-five, Naomi. We weren't sure how long you'd be. You didn't even tell Mom you were leaving.”

Naomi lifted a slender shoulder. “She was sleeping. I didn't want to wake her up.”

Annabelle resisted an eye roll and grabbed her plate. Aware of her sister's questioning gaze, Annabelle strolled into the kitchen so she could do the dishes. Behind the closed door, she heard her mother say something to Naomi, which Naomi didn't reply to. A second later, the kitchen door swung open and her sister's sneakers treaded across the tiled floor.

“I'm sorry you guys had to make breakfast,” Naomi said. “I wasn't trying to bail on you or anything. I didn't think it would be a big deal. Plus, I didn't realize we had a set time.”

“Obviously,” Annabelle muttered as she grabbed the pan off the stove and stuck it in the sink. Why did she have to turn into such a grump whenever her sister was in the room? They'd managed to have a good time at the game last night, without the slightest bicker. It had been nice and fun and had reminded Annabelle how much she missed having her sister around. Then Naomi slipped back into her own Naomi world, which made Annabelle want to snarl at her.

Naomi leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. Not even glancing at the French toast casserole or the other dirty dishes she could have helped with. Instead she just stood there and watched Annabelle do all the work.

“We were supposed to all have breakfast together,” Annabelle blurted out.

Naomi blinked at her. “We could have if you had waited.”

Annabelle squirted soap onto the sponge and swirled the thing around the dirty pan. “How long were we supposed to wait? For all we knew, you could have been gone all day.”

“But I wasn't,” Naomi pointed out. “I just went to the gym. Chill out.”

“What was Mom supposed to do with the breakfast when she got up?”

“I already did it for her,” Naomi pointed out. “All she needed to do was put the casserole in the oven.”

“Which she can't do,” Annabelle argued with a glance at her sister.

“Yes, she can, Tansie. Mom's capable of doing a lot more than you give her credit for. I still can't figure out why you hover over her the way you do.”

Annabelle rinsed the pan and set it on the drying rack, but the thing toppled over when she dropped it with too much force. “Because she needs help.” She shut the faucet off and tossed the sponge down. “One of us needs to be here to do the things for her that she can't do herself.”

“You're here because you're a control freak, Tansie. Not because Mom needs you.”

Annabelle spun around because the truth of her sister's words cut too deep. “And you're never here because you're too consumed with your own life. You didn't even know that Mom can't drink milk anymore.”

Naomi stared back at her for a moment with a shallow pinch between her brows. “So it finally comes out,” she muttered. “I knew there was something you were holding back from me.”

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Annabelle leaned against the counter and lowered her head. Why did she have to act like a person she didn't recognize? Speaking without thinking had always been an issue for her, figuring honesty was always the best way to go. But some things, no matter how honest, were better left unsaid.

“Do you know why I stayed in South America?” Naomi asked. She glanced at Annabelle and continued. “Because I felt like I didn't fit in here.”

The words sucked the breath from Annabelle's lungs. How could her own sister feel like a foreigner? It wasn't right, no matter how much Annabelle wished Naomi's life were different.
You want her to be more like you.
“That's crazy,” Annabelle told her sister as much as telling herself.

“Maybe to you. But you had your life in order, Tansie. You had a degree and a good job and you were getting married.” Naomi stared at a point across the kitchen. “You were always the more determined, responsible older sister. And I was…” She lifted both her shoulders. “I was always the flighty one who couldn't stick with something for more than a few months.”

Annabelle blinked at her sister. “I don't understand what you're trying to say.”

Naomi placed her similar hazel eyes on Annabelle. “That's because you don't know what it's like to live in someone's shadow.”

Naomi thought she'd been living in Annabelle's shadow? Why in the world would she think that? Had Annabelle made her own sister feel that way? The possibility was too much for her to swallow because she'd never intentionally make her own sister feel like she wasn't good enough. They might be different people with different priorities, but Naomi had her own strengths that made her good at what she did.

She was fearless and independent, something Annabelle had always struggled with.

“Naomi, I…” Annabelle shook her head. “I had no idea you felt that way.” Had she been so worked up in starting her career and marrying Nathan that she'd failed to notice anything else around her? Had she lived the same selfish way she'd accused Naomi of living? That idea didn't set well with Annabelle; she'd always tried being a better person than that. Helping people who needed it, giving her time when she could.

“I know you didn't,” Naomi said. “And I know it wasn't something you did intentionally. But Mom was always saying how proud she was of you, and ‘Naomi, you should see the house your sister just bought,' or ‘Naomi, when are you going to get a good job like your sister?' After a while it just became too much for me.”

Naomi had never given any indication she'd felt that way. “Why move to a whole other country? I mean, don't you realize how much we miss you? It sucks seeing you every two years.”

“You think I don't miss you and Mom like crazy? That I constantly wrestle with whether or not I made a mistake moving so far away? I know Mom is getting older and not being here for her kills me.”

“So why do you stay away?” Annabelle asked.

“Because I love what I do and I love living in South America. I know you and Mom will never understand that, but life down there is different than it is here. It's slower and more laid back. In Peru I can be my own person without pressure from anyone else.”

“You can be your own person here,” Annabelle argued. “Do you know how much it kills Mom to never see you?” Just saying the words out loud was like a knife to her heart.

When Naomi looked at Annabelle, her green eyes were bright with moisture. “You think I don't think about that all the time? That I don't constantly go back and forth between loyalty to my family and following my dreams? How am I supposed to decide between the two?”

Annabelle had never thought about it that way, because her dreams had never taken her farther than a few hours away. It just so happened that she loved Colorado. Loved the majestic beauty of the mountains and the cool air. She loved being outdoors and seeing her mother. So choosing between her dreams and her family had never been an issue for her.

“You did decide, Naomi,” she pointed out. “You chose to follow your dreams.”

Naomi pushed away from the counter. “Don't say it in that tone of voice, Tansie. Like you're accusing me of doing something wrong. Like I've betrayed you or something.” Naomi spun around and pinned Annabelle with a desperate stare. “Why can't you just be supportive of me? Why do you and Mom always have to make me feel like I've done something wrong?”

When the first tear trickled over her sister's lashes, Annabelle's heart constricted. Naomi had gone from the independent, opinionated woman to the soft-spoken little girl who used to slip her smaller hand into Annabelle's and then allow Annabelle to lead her wherever she wanted to go. Because there was trust and love and understanding.