Forevermore Page 10

  Upstairs Olivia’s door stood open. I’d closed it just yesterday, which meant that either Briony or more likely Caleb had opened it to look inside. It might have been the instigator for this mini-fit of his.

  I knocked twice on Caleb’s closed door. No immediate response, so I rapped again. Harder.

  “What?” he bellowed from inside.

  I eased the door open. “Hi.”

  His face registered shock, regret, then annoyance once again. He just looked at me, but I held firm until he finally relented. “Hey, M.”

  I came in and gestured to the edge of his bed, asking if I could sit. He never minded before. In fact, he was more of a door’s always open kinda person. We’d had to train him to knock on all closed doors.

  He gave me a shrug but watched as I took the seat, careful not to crowd his legs that seemed to be getting longer by the minute. His clothes from camp that day were strewn haphazardly near his closet. He must have tossed them toward the hamper and not cared if they made it in or not. It was fine with me as long as his room didn’t start to smell from the unwashed clothes or any food he smuggled up here. Briony was more of a stickler about him cleaning his room.

  “I caught most of that as I came in, big guy,” I started, trying not to sound like a scolding parental unit and more like a concerned confidante. “I know you’re sometimes angry. I know the feeling can just creep up on you. It’s easy to vent to the people you know won’t hold it against you.”

  “She holds everything against me.”

  “You know that’s not true.” I stared him down until he jerked his chin in agreement. “And I know you miss Olivia. We all do. That anger you feel, it’s really just you hurting.”

  He looked away then whipped his legs off the bed and lurched over to his beanbag chair. Every bone in his body collapsed in on themselves as he dropped into the cushy seat. “It sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t a good thing for us. It hurts like crazy. But we can’t get mad at each other, Caleb. We can’t let that sadness make us hurt others.”

  His eyes welled up, and he swallowed hard. “I just get so…”

  “I know. I heard a girl laugh on campus today, and I could have sworn it was Olivia. It just made the hurt hurt more, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your mom loves you more than anything in the world. She’s hurting, too. She doesn’t deserve to be yelled at.”

  “I didn’t yell,” he mumbled, but he looked sufficiently guilty.

  “Okay, she doesn’t deserve to have her kid, the person she loves more than life itself, tell her that she’s ruining his life. Don’t ya think?” My eyebrows rose and accompanied a teasing smile. “Maybe you were a little hard on her?”

  “Yeah. But I am the only kid without a cellphone. Hank got one yesterday.”

  Ah, there it was. Hank got one, so Caleb would want one. “You know that the texting function on a cellphone will help Hank communicate with people who don’t always understand him when he speaks. He actually needs a phone and you just want one.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Face it, you’ve got a mom who thinks cellphones are causing the downfall of civility. Consider yourself lucky that she’s even letting you get one next year.”

  His lips pulled wide. “Hank said I could use his anytime I wanted.”

  “Brilliant. You’ve already got a temporary solution. Now all that’s left…”

  He looked expectantly at me.

  “Is to…” I went on.

  He still gave me a blank look.

  “Apologize for being a clone of Damien, maybe?”

  He laughed, not that he’d seen the movie, but some of his friends had seen the remake so he knew the reference. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Now, bucko,” I used his mom’s favorite pet name for him. “It’s taco night, and you’re the only one who can chop the onions without crying.”

  He laughed again, that sweet boy I’d first met at Hank’s house and later gotten to know and love always seemed to win out, even when he was being his most demonic.

  M / 18

  Laughter erupted from the sofa cluster. I glanced over from the dining table not at all surprised to see Willa leaving the group on her way over to me. She was a master at drive-by entertainment. Stop off to hear a topic, drop an amusing line or two on the subject, and whisk herself away before the topic becomes stale.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Setting the table,” I said as I did any Sunday night that we joined the friends for dinner. It kept me from having to take part in many conversations. Or having Briony or Willa help me through them.

  “If you do this, how do I stay away from the annoying ones?” She smiled brightly, knowing exactly why I was doing this.

  We glanced back over at the group where the most boisterous of the crowd, Des, was holding court. I’d actually gotten somewhat used to her when she was restoring the historical home Briony and I bought. She does good work, talks too much and is nosy as hell, but she does good work.

  The baby started crying again. It pretty much only ever cried, or at least, that’s all I ever saw it do. And yes, I should call it by its gender but so far I could only label it a crying machine. Sam and Caroline looked exhausted, acted exhausted, and used these dinners as their best chance to pass off the baby to other willing arms and zone out. I tried not to frown whenever I saw them or the baby. They’d spent hundreds of thousands to get that child, first with donor sperm then in vitro fertilization. When neither worked, they chose the more expensive option of utilizing a gestational carrier rather than a surrogate so they could use Caroline’s eggs to have a biological baby. At first I felt bad that they couldn’t get pregnant, but then I started thinking about all the barely year-old babies in the foster care program that could have used their love and care and not cost them a dime, or rather, cost Willa a dime.

  Isabel scooped up the baby before Sam or Caroline even made a move off the couch. She beat Skye to the bassinette by five seconds. Isabel obviously missed holding babies now that her daughter was almost seventeen. Kayin, her partner, well, renewed partner after a yearlong separation, moved to the other side of the group. She clearly didn’t want Isabel getting any ideas about babies.

  Jessie, Lauren, and Briony all made their way outside where Quinn was grilling dinner. This had been a standard action for many of the group since the baby’s arrival six months ago. All that time that Sam and Caroline were trying for a baby, I doubted they counted on having one that never stopped crying.

  Willa tipped her head and smiled as she watched them sneak outside. She gestured for us to go into the kitchen so we could distance ourselves from the squalling child. “My ears!”

  “Pretty loud,” I agreed.

  “It’s like that assignment in high school where you have to take home an animated doll to prove that you can take care of a kid. Only the doll malfunctions and cries all the time and you get an F.”

  I laughed and gave her my best sarcasm. “Yes, it’s exactly like that.”

  “Holy lungs,” Quinn whispered when she appeared at the other end of the kitchen with Jessie, Lauren, and Briony. They must have circled the house to come back in through the front door.

  “You don’t have to whisper, Q,” Jess told her. “Nobody can hear anything with Summer around.”

  Briony came over to slip her arm around my waist. I’d gotten comfortable enough at these dinners that I didn’t need her near me at all times as my touchstone anymore. But damn, it still felt nice when she was.

  “Austy brought earplugs last time,” Lauren said. “I think I’ll follow her lead next time.”

  “Or stay home like she did,” Jessie inserted.

  “How’s Caleb really doing at your camp, Quinn? We barely get grunts from him these days.” Briony joked, although she wasn’t far off in her description. At least it was more from exhaustion than attitude this time.

  “He’s been a great help,” Quinn replied
. “He’s the only help I’ve got that isn’t trying to get a scholarship from me. I’m rethinking my hires for these camps from now on.”

  Briony beamed with pride. I puffed up pretty big, too. We’d been a little reticent to have Caleb work at Quinn’s basketball camp because it wouldn’t be anything like his work at Willa’s, sitting at a table playing video games all day. He’d be outside in oppressive heat, running after balls, towels, water bottles, whatever Quinn and her assistant coaches needed. To hear he’d been doing well, treating Quinn the right way eased our minds.

  I reached up to rub Briony’s back. She flashed a grin at me. “I’m glad he’s helpful.”

  “The campers love him. You’re going to have a heartbreaker on your hands as soon as he starts dating girls, Bri.”

  She chuckled and nodded. We’d worry about that when he finally starting showing some real interest beyond crushes on girls. For now, we were working on trying to get back to normal in our house. Having a distraction like Quinn’s basketball camp helped tremendously. Over the past week, our old pattern of life was starting to emerge again. Dinner together and some sort of game, board or sports in the backyard, then maybe a television show or two before we all went to bed. Happy, for the most part.

  In less than a month, we’d begun to deal with our loss and make an effort at moving on. I doubted I’d ever fully accomplish that, but it was better than knowing my family was suffering daily.

  19 / OLIVIA

  IAN WAS TALKING TO Aunt Nell about me again. About why I wasn’t more talkative or why I wasn’t making friends with the kids in the complex. He didn’t understand that a bunch of young boys and two older girls wouldn’t exactly want me around. He’d introduced me to all the kids that go to his church, but none of them lived near here. He wasn’t going to drive me to their houses, so until school started, I sat in my room and practiced my reading or went for walks around the complex.

  I missed hanging out with Caleb, Eden, and Hank. They could make a boring afternoon fun. I didn’t want to miss them. I’d never missed anyone but my mom before, and now I was missing my friends. And I really missed Briony and M and how they’d help with homework or suggest games or activities to keep us from being bored. And I missed those wonderful Saturdays when we’d all do something special together.

  My room didn’t feel like my room because Ian was at the desk three or four hours a day. When he wasn’t at the church, he was home. A lot more than Aunt Nell was home from her job. I stayed out of his way, in the living room, walking around outside, or helping Aunt Nell cook dinner. He spent a lot of time writing his sermons. Only a little more time than he spent reading them on Sundays. That was another difference. Most of my foster families made me go to church, but Briony and M never made me go. M went to church on some religious holidays, but she never forced us to go with her. Ian made us spend half the day on Sunday at church. We’d listen to him talk about whatever subject he wanted, lots to do with values and morals and how it was important to be part of the community. I found out that didn’t always mean helping others. It meant not being different. Then we’d sit in the church basement for another couple of hours in meetings with adults about tasks and gatherings. It was hard to keep my eyes open sometimes.

  When one of his sermons went on about how being gay was wrong, I wanted to scream in the middle of church. I wouldn’t have liked what he said even before I’d lived with Briony and M. I’d never met anyone gay before, but my mom taught me not to be afraid of new things. I didn’t know if Ian’s problem was fear or if he’d had some bad experience before, but if he knew Briony and M or Willa and Quinn or Jessie and Lauren, he wouldn’t be saying some of the things he said.

  My shoulders slouched as I pushed up from the floor and headed to the stairs. I couldn’t take them talking about me anymore, so I decided to do something I hated doing. I would lie.

  “Aunt Nell?” I called out from the bottom of the staircase, giving them plenty of time to stop talking about me before I got to them. “Can I go over to the park at the end of the street? Janna invited me to play soccer with her cousins.”

  “Oh? Who’s Janna?” Aunt Nell asked, clearly pleased.

  “She knows one of the kids from this complex. They were over here yesterday.” That just popped into my head.

  “Sure, Livy, have fun,” Aunt Nell said and smiled at Ian.

  “Does she come from a good Christian family?” Ian stopped my turn to the door.

  I tried not to frown. What did that mean? What was a bad Christian family? And if he ever met Eden, would I be allowed to hang out with her if he knew she was Jewish? I answered the way I thought he’d want me to. “I haven’t met her parents, but she and her cousins are very nice.”

  “Tell them that they’re always welcome at my church. Be back by seven for dinner.”

  “Okay,” I called and dashed out the door before I had to lie even more. Hopefully they’d be content that I had a friend and wouldn’t insist on knowing a lot about her. I’d have to make notes if I was going to come up with details.

  Taking my time, I walked toward the park. It wasn’t exactly at the end of the block. More like three blocks away, but I didn’t want Aunt Nell saying I couldn’t go because it was too far. When I arrived, I spotted kids playing on the swing set and elaborate fortress. Off in the distance, a softball game played on. I could watch that game for a while. Maybe I’d run around the track a few times. Caleb had been training for the track team before I left. I went running with him every once in a while. That might be fun to start again.

  So far, living with Aunt Nell hadn’t been the wonderful bonding over my mom experience I’d hoped it would be. She never talked about her. I showed her the memory book that M gave me. M and I had worked on filling it with the photos I had and jotting down the things I remembered about my mom. Things I never thought I’d forget like hair color, eye color, how she smelled, her favorite hobbies, but as the time passes, I’ve been forgetting more and more. The memory book would always be there for me to confirm the things I remembered. M could come up with a million questions to prompt memories for me to write down. When I showed the book to Aunt Nell, it just seemed to make her sad. Ian asked her once how old my mom was when she had me. The scowl on his face made it clear the subject of a sixteen-year-old mother was closed.

  I wasn’t too young to see how hard it was for my mom. Her parents were really upset about her getting pregnant so young. They demanded she give me up for adoption. When she didn’t, they kicked her out of their house. She’d stayed with a family friend at first. Then she found another single mom to room with. Their different work schedules allowed them to switch off child care for a few years. We’d only been living on our own for three years before Mom’s car accident. We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much either. She tried not to be angry with her parents for kicking her out, but I think she was. She never took the anger out on Aunt Nell, though. She was always happy to see her sister whenever Aunt Nell could sneak out.

  I wondered if she’d still be happy to see her now. Ian took over everything we did. He had an opinion about everything. It was always what he wanted for dinner, what he needed to do after church, what time he wanted to do the things he wanted to do. I didn’t think my mom would have liked him, but she’d give him more than a month to get to know him before deciding that. I could do the same. I’d lived with foster families that I didn’t like. I could live with him.

  I stepped up onto the bleachers to join the people watching the softball game. My shoulders relaxed, and I felt free for the first time since moving here. No one talking about me, shushing each other because I’d come into the room, lecturing about what was right and wrong. I could just watch the game. It wouldn’t be as fun as watching Hank and Caleb’s baseball team, but it would be fine for now.

  20 / OLIVIA

  THEIR ARGUMENT WOKE ME up. Normally their disagreements didn’t last long, and Ian always got his way. It didn’t sound like that this time. They weren’t
discussing how much the wedding was going to cost either. It was only a week away now. They talked about it nonstop all the time. My play dates with the imaginary Janna were getting more frequent just so I could get away from them.

  “How could you do this to me?” Aunt Nell demanded.

  “It was a mistake, sugarplum. A slip up. The bible says, temptation—”

  “I don’t care what the bible says right now, Ian. You were unfaithful. We’re getting married next week. How could you do this to me?”

  Unfaithful. Did that mean what I thought it meant? If so I didn’t think “good Christian folk” did stuff like that. Aunt Nell sounded really, really mad.

  “My precious, please be reasonable. I was a fool. I will never do it again. You are the only one for me.” He sounded like he was pleading now. He never pleaded. “I was under so much pressure with this wedding and raising your niece. I lost my head for a moment.”

  “With Angela? Why did it have to be Angela? She’s going to tell everyone. It’s humiliating.”

  “She won’t say a word.”

  Aunt Nell didn’t say anything for a while. I shouldn’t be listening, but I couldn’t believe they were fighting like this so close to their wedding. “I don’t care, Ian. You hurt me. I can’t possibly trust you now, and I can’t forgive this.”

  “You have to, Nellie. Please. I made one mistake. God knows we’re all flawed.” His sermon last week was on human flaws. Totally lopsided, too. He had lots to say about women’s flaws but he only made jokes about men’s flaws. “You’re not perfect either. We’re both going through a transition right now. We’ve had to adjust to raising your niece. That’s been hard on both of us. She’s not easy. You know that.”

  Great. Now I was the reason he was making Aunt Nell mad? Other foster parents would fight about us kids from time to time, but this sounded like Ian blamed me for him acting badly. That being my parent, which he so wasn’t, was the reason he made this kind of mistake.

  “That’s no excuse,” Aunt Nell told him. My stomach hurt when she didn’t deny his words. Parenting wasn’t easy, I knew that, but she could have at least told him she liked having me here.