Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (34 page)

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Besides that, she and Louise are having their barbecue tomorrow. And they expect you and Sicily to be there too.”

He nodded in a halfhearted way. “Yeah, I know.”

“You'll come, won't you?”

“I seriously doubt that Janice would appreciate my company too much.”

“Oh, don't worry about her. She knows how to mind her manners.”

“But what if she drank too much and lost it? We'd have an unexpected fireworks show on our hands. I hate to expose Sicily, or any of the other guests, to that.” Although by now he suspected that Sicily had seen some rather fiery displays between her mom and Gregory.

“I see your point.” Waverly tried to think of another option. “But it's too bad. I know both Aunt Lou and Vivian wanted you and Sicily to be there.”

“Maybe there's more I can do to defuse the volatile situation,” he said. “Do you suppose I could have a civilized conversation with Janice? Or do you think that would help?”

Waverly bit her lip. “It's hard to say. With Janice, you never know. She might totally ignore you, like nothing ever happened. Or, like you said, she could blow up in your face. But that's Janice.”

Just then Sicily came bounding down the stairs. “Oh, there you are,” she said as she ran up to hug Waverly. “Vivian said you went out to get soup.”

“That's right.”

Sicily looked dubious. “That's what you're having for dinner? Just plain old soup?”

Waverly laughed. “Not just plain old soup. It happens to be lobster bisque. It's Zephrus's soup of the day, and it's really scrumptious. Plus, we have homemade bread.”

“Oh.” Sicily nodded like that was fine. “Anyway, Vivian said we'll see you guys tomorrow at the barbecue.” She looked at Blake. “Right, Dad? Because we are going, aren't we?”

“Well, we were just discussing it, sweetie, and I'm not convinced it's a good idea.”

“Dad.”
She was using that preadolescent tone again. “Why
not?”

Waverly grinned. “Yeah,
Dad
, why not?”

“Fine.” He held up his hands, knowing he was outnumbered. “You girls win. Sicily and I will come to the barbecue. But be prepared in case we have our own special fireworks show.”

“Really, our own fireworks show?” Sicily looked innocently hopeful. “That would be so cool, Dad.”

Blake winked at Waverly and, to his pleased surprise, she even winked back. As far as fireworks, well, he planned to do his best to keep it to the sparkler and sky rocket varieties, if at all possible.

After the contractor bolstered up the apartment's back deck with some hefty-looking posts beneath it, and enclosed it with sturdy railings, he proclaimed it “safe for occupancy.” Although the structure was stairless, Waverly began using and enjoying her outdoor space again. So it was that Independence Day morning found Waverly and her mother comfortably reclined in the Adirondack chairs, enjoying the morning sun and a cool marine breeze, along with their coffee and cinnamon rolls.

“I could get used to this little spot.” Vivian took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. She pointed to a corner of the deck. “But you really could use a big pot of red geraniums right there. Perhaps some kitchen herbs over here. And then it would be absolutely perfect.”

“Good ideas.” Waverly nodded. “You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you like. It's been fun having you.”

Vivian smiled. “Thanks, sweetie. But I sort of miss the beach house too. In fact, I'm looking forward to Louise's barbecue today.”

Waverly gazed out over the harbor, where a ferry was coming in, probably loaded with yet more tourists. How the Vineyard managed to house and feed all these summer people was still a mystery to her, but it seemed to work out. Perhaps some of the vacation people brought along their own food.

“But you're not?”

Waverly looked at her mother. “Not what?”

“Looking forward to Aunt Lou's barbecue?”

Waverly didn't know if that was a question or a statement. “I, uh, I guess I'm looking forward to it….”

“Just not looking forward to seeing your cousin?”

Waverly nodded. “But knowing Janice, she could be completely over the whole thing by now.” She exhaled loudly. “Or not.” Then she told Vivian what Blake had said about having a special fireworks show today. “Of course, Sicily took him literally. She probably thinks her dad's going to do some fabulous pyrotechnics today. I hope she's not too disappointed.”

Vivian laughed.

“But I do think it's sweet that Blake wants to protect her from an ugly fight.”

“From what I hear, Sicily is used to that sort of thing.”

“Really?” Waverly stared at her mother with interest. “What have you heard? And who did you hear it from?”

“Oh, this and that. Between Sicily and Blake I've managed to patch some things together.”

“Such as…?” Waverly wanted to appear nonchalant, but she was extremely curious.

“Well, for starters, it sounds as if Sicily's mother, Gia, is something of a firecracker. In fact, Sicily actually compared her to Janice—except, as she pointed out, they don't look anything alike.”

“What does Gia look like?”

“It sounds like she looks like Sicily, only in a grown-up package.”

Waverly nodded. “Then Gia must be quite pretty.”

“Yes.”

“I haven't gotten the feeling that Sicily and Gia are very close,” Waverly said carefully. “Sicily doesn't appear to miss her mother much.”

Vivian slowly shook her head. “I've noticed that too. Although I'm sure Sicily loves her mother.”

“Of course. What child doesn't love her mother unconditionally?”

Of course, even as Waverly said this, she felt uneasy since, until lately, she and her mother had never been overly close—never had a traditional mother-daughter relationship.

“I suppose mothers are lucky that way.” Vivian's expression grew somber. “When we're young and inexperienced and find ourselves the parent of a child, we think we're doing a decent job. Then we get older and wiser, and we realize how much we've blown it. Yet, if we're lucky, our offspring will forgive us and continue to love us—hopefully unconditionally.”

Waverly didn't say anything. Was this Vivian's way of apologizing to her? And, if so, did Waverly need to acknowledge it? They'd never really been like that in the past.

“I'm curious, Waverly,” Vivian continued. “You've never said much. But sometimes I wonder how
you
perceive your childhood. As a grown-up, what do you think when you look back over the way you were raised?”

Waverly shrugged. “Oh, I think I had a very unique and interesting childhood.”

“In other words, your mother was a weirdo. But you were always all right with that?”

“I suppose there were times, like when you'd be on a trip and I'd be staying at Aunt Lou's, that I'd start to feel a little envious of their traditional home.”

Vivian looked slightly crushed. “You really wanted a traditional home?”

Waverly snickered. “Well, my jealousy was usually short-lived. I'd get a sneak peek at the underside of their so-called traditional home, and then I'd be thankful I wasn't a full-time resident. And, of course, there was Janice. As a child I thought she was totally spoiled. I called her PB.”

“PB?”

“Short for
Princess Brat.
I gave her that nickname. Of course, I told her that PB stood for Pretty Baby or else she would've killed me.” Waverly laughed. “But she called me names too. Not just with initials either.”

“Like what?”

Waverly thought. “Let's see…she called me Earth Worm and Art Freak and, of course, there was always Waverly Wafer. But it was Dippy Hippie that I really hated. I don't even know why now. It's not really that bad.”

“She probably called you that because I used to dress you somewhat unconventionally when you were little. Tie-dye and overalls and moccasins and things. I thought you looked adorable, and you fit right into San Francisco and the other places we lived, but it was rather unconventional for the likes of Boston.” Vivian peered at her. “Anything else I did that you've had to have therapy for?”

Waverly shook her head. “No, but I do recall how much I hated it when we'd move,” she admitted. “Not so much when I was little, more as I got older. I'd make a couple of friends, and then it was time to go. It was especially hard as a teenager. I guess that's when I became such a loner.”

“Really, you felt you were a loner?” Vivian looked surprised. “Here I thought you made friends so easily. I'm sorry, Waverly.”

Waverly shrugged. “It's okay. I'm over it.”

“But you're right. We were fairly Bohemian,” Vivian said wistfully. “Moving about, starting new businesses, taking extended vacations in strange locales. But you did get to see a lot of the world, Waverly.”

“That's true. I had a lot of experiences that most kids miss out on. I appreciate that.” She smiled.

“So you're basically perfectly fine and normal then?” Vivian peered closely at her. “I don't owe you some big apology for some horrid thing that I can't remember?”

“I don't think so.”

“You'd tell me if I did?”

Waverly nodded. “Yes. But I do have a couple of questions.”

“Such as?”

“For as long as I can remember, I've called you Vivian. I don't know why or how it started, but I know some people think it's odd. Sometimes I want to call you Mom or Mother, but I stop myself. I know you don't like that—being called Mother.”

“You don't think I'd like to be called Mother?” Vivian looked stunned. “I would love it! Whether Mother, Mom, Mommy, Mama, Mummy—anything along those lines would be lovely.”

“Really?” Now Waverly was stunned. “Then why have I been calling you Vivian all these years?”

Vivian laughed. “Don't you remember?”

“No.”

“I joined a commune a few months before you were born, down near Santa Barbara, and I lived there until you were about four. You had a number of caregivers in the commune, and everyone called everyone by their first names, and because you heard others calling me Vivian, you did too. At first I thought it was cute, but when I tried to get you to call me Mommy, you got mad. You stomped your little two-year-old foot and insisted my name was Vivian. There weren't other children in the commune at the time, so you never heard the word
mommy
being used. So I simply acquiesced and let you call me Vivian. And so it remained.”

“Really?” Waverly tried to wrap her head around that. “It was because of me?”

“Oh, I suppose I sort of liked it too. Especially when you were older.” Vivian smiled sadly into her coffee cup. “It probably made me feel like we were friends, and I was younger. I suppose it had to do with my rebellion against tradition. But, honestly, if I had that part to do again, I think I'd do it differently. I like feeling like your mother, Waverly.”

“So, if I slipped up now and then and called you Mom, you'd be okay with it?”

“I'd be much more than okay.” Her smile brightened. “Now you said a couple of questions. What else is on your mind?”

Waverly was unsure, yet she needed to know. “It's about my dad—my biological father.” She hesitated. The last time she'd brought this subject up was before she and Neil had gotten married, and the discussion hadn't gone well then. “It's not that I want to make you feel bad. It's just that I'd like to have some idea—even if only for health reasons—who I'm related to. For instance, what if I have some DNA issues that I'm unaware of? What should I be watching out for?”

Vivian nodded. “Yes. You're right. I owe that to you.”

“I've even wondered if perhaps there was a sperm donation involved. And that's why you don't want to talk about it.” Waverly braced herself for her worst fear.

“No.” Vivian laughed. “Not of the clinical sort anyway.”

“What then? Why the mystery?”

“I suppose I was simply thinking of my own needs. I wanted to forget about him—to pretend he never existed. But that wasn't really fair.” She paused, as if trying to see into the past. “Your father was a good man. A very intelligent man.” She pointed to Waverly. “Like you, he was an artist. He was also a musician. He was a very wonderful person. In fact, since confessions are in order, he was the love of my life.”

Waverly blinked. “My father was the love of your life?”

She nodded.

“Then why didn't you marry him? Or, even if you didn't believe in marriage, why didn't you just live with him? Why didn't you stay together?”

“He already had a wife.”

“Oh.”