My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) (30 page)

At that harsh statement, I back up quickly, turning into Patti. “I’m so sorry, Chris. I thought I was helping by not putting her on the bus. She screamed the whole way home like that. I’m so worried she’s going to hurt herself.”

Um, what?
How does a four-year-old hurt themselves?

I’m totally about to freak out here. I turn back to Pippa who’s pulling at her hair, still screaming and tears are pouring down her face. I’m frozen in place, shocked at this scene before me. I have no idea how to respond to her irate state right now.

I try again to get as close as I think she’ll let me and kneel. “Pippa, sweetie, can you calm down? It’s okay. I’m here for you, okay?” She begins to register my voice, thank God. “Kissy,” she chokes out. “I want my mommy. Please, I want my mommy. Please. I saw her. Please. I want my mommy.”

Every time she begs me, I feel like I die a little inside. I would do anything for this little girl if she asked, but this one. This one I can’t. And I feel helpless.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry but I can’t do that. You know your mommy is in Heaven.”

“No, she’s not! I saw her! I want my mommy!” She is back to screaming.

“Pippa, listen to me. You have to calm down.” I turn to Patti for help, but she looks just as distraught. I’m not sure anyone has ever seen this side of Pippa. “What do I do?” I ask her. She’s been around Pippa her whole life, she should know. For the love of God, why isn’t she helping me?

Then I see it.

The tear that falls down her cheek. “I don’t know, sweetie. I’m sorry, I just don’t know.” What is happening right now? This can’t be easy for her, I’m sure. I know Amy was like a daughter to her and to see Pippa like this has to hit hard for her, but I can’t do this alone.

Ian.

Where’s my phone? I look around for it. I need to call Ian. I look around until I spot it. I hear the house phone going off. It’s probably the school, wanting to check if Pippa made it home. Once, twice, three times it rings, before it happens.

The answering machine goes off.

And Amy’s voice rings through the room.

And my heart breaks.

“MOMMY!” Pippa breaks from my hold, because I’m too stunned at the turn of events to hold tight enough. As I listen to Amy’s recorded voice on the machine, a four-year-old child runs into the kitchen, expecting to see her mother.

I hear Patti gasp as she covers her strangled cry.

I turn to her quickly. “Call Ian. Now!” Then I race into the room. I find Pippa standing at the back of the kitchen trying to open up the garage door.

“Honey?”

“I heard her! She’s here. I heard her!”

“Baby girl, that was the answering machine. That wasn’t your mommy.” I bend down to her level and attempt to grab her but she swings and hits me. She catches me off guard with her slap, but I take it because it’s the only way I’m going to be able to get close enough to restrain her.

“Let me go! I don’t want you! I want my mommy!” she screams, and struggles in my arms as I bear hug her to me.

It is humanly impossible to fight the tears that are pouring down my cheeks. I’m holding a child who doesn’t understand. How will she learn to heal if she doesn’t understand what she’s healing from? She fights and she fights. Her little hands hit over and over for me to release her. I tell her repeatedly that it’s going to be okay and that I love her. Finally, I feel her fight die when her painful screams turn into wretched cries. I rock her in my arms while she cries and hiccups how she wants her mommy. And I cry with her. Because I want her mommy, too.

I don’t know how long we stay on the floor, but it’s long enough for Ian to come barreling through the door, his large frame hovering over us.

“What happened?” He looks wild with fright. I’m not sure what Patti told him. I shake my head at him because I’m not sure I have words to explain what I just experienced. Pippa has calmed and possibly fallen asleep in my arms.

Ian looks at my face and notices the red marks from Pippa’s lashes. “Jesus.” He brushes my hair off my face. There’s no hiding the tearstains or the welts. “Chris, what happened? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

I close my eyes and shake my head. The tears squeeze from my lids but are swept away by Ian’s warm thumb. “She had another nightmare at school,” I whisper quietly. “Patti was there so she brought her home. She came home and was hysterical. Wanted Amy. Kept asking for her. Then . . . then . . .” I can barely finish, remembering the look in Pippa’s eyes. And most likely the horror in mine. “Then the answering machine went off and she heard it. She thought her mommy was here. And she took off toward the sound.”

Ian looks exactly how I feel. Shattered. He bends his head toward the ground for a moment to gather himself. After a few loud breaths, he stands. “Come here.” He helps me up. My legs are wobbly from sitting on them for so long. He takes Pippa from my arms, holding me in place.

“Go put her down. I need to talk with Patti.”

“Are you sure? Are you okay?” The look of distress is clearly across both our faces.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I lie. Physically I am fine. Mentally I might be paying off this therapy bill for the rest of eternity. He leads me into the living room where Patti is on the couch. She pops up as soon as we enter the room.

“How is she?”

“She’s sleeping. Ian’s going to put her in her bed.”

“I’m so sorry, Chrissy, I didn’t know what to do. I just . . . I’ve been having a hard time as well with their passing. And I’ve been so close to Pippa since she was born.” She stops to take a deep breath. “I’ve never seen her like that. I just froze.”

“Oh, Patti, it’s not your fault. I was just as scared as you were. I don’t think anyone would know what to do in a situation like that.” Because if anyone has to train for those situations, that’s clearly messed up.

“I know. I’m just sorry in general. Henry and I, we loved Amy and John like family. And we love Pippa.”

“I know you do.” I try to console her as best I can. I step forward and give her a hug with any energy I have left.

“Well, I should get out of your hair. You two need some time alone.”

I wish her well and she’s gone. Just as I’m walking down the hallway, Ian is closing Pippa’s door.

“Is she asleep?” I ask, stopping in front of his tall frame.

“Yeah, she never even woke up. I changed her into her pajamas.”

“What about her bath? It’s bath night. She needs her bath.” I’m getting frantic again. I need to follow the schedule. I can’t fail my sister. And if I don’t follow the schedule . . .

I’m starting to hyperventilate. Panic.
Clearly.

“Hey . . .” He grabs me and picks me up.

“Ian, I need to follow her schedule and if I don’t follow her schedule . . .” Strangled breaths, in and out. “I’m going to let my sister down.”

Ian holds me to his chest as we make our way to the bedroom we’ve been sharing for the past three weeks. He lays me on the bed and joins me. He pulls our bodies close, knowing I need his warmth right now and most importantly, I need his strength.

I have never witnessed something like that before in my life and it scares me. Watching a child so young, so out of control of her emotions. She looked so terrified.

I lift my head, my pleading eyes connecting with Ian’s. “What are we doing wrong, Ian? What am
I
doing wrong? I don’t know how to explain to her how cruel this world is.”

He kisses my forehead and guides my head to lie back on his chest. “There’s not a rule book for something like this. I think we’re doing the best we can. I can’t imagine what you saw tonight, but I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I hate to know you were alone.”

My strong, selfless Ian.

I think about Pippa’s comment about not wanting me. I try not to take it to heart. But I mentally beat myself up for not spending more time talking with her about her feelings or my sister. I just got so caught up trying to win her over and be her buddy, I forgot the real reason I’m here and was thrown into her life.

“Do you think she understands? Like, any of it?” I question.

“I honestly don’t know.”

I lift my head again to face him. “How are you so good with her? How do you know what to do or say?” Because throughout this whole messed up situation, he’s been so great. Like he’s the child whisperer or harboring a secret love child somewhere.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m doing any better than you are. But I guess it’s because I’ve been around since she was born. So I’ve spent the last four years watching her grow.”

That doesn’t help my internal battle about being a horrible, absent, no-good aunt, who might be making this all worse.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” He bends forward and presses his lips to mine. “I just meant that watching Amy and John with her, I guess you learn to pick up things here and there.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip.

“Am I royally screwing this situation up?” Because that’s honestly how I feel.

He grabs my face with both hands. “I think you’re doing great. I think that Pippa has a great influence in her life and your sister would be thankful that you’re here to fill her void.”

“I’m thinking more like a hot mess, taking everyone down in my path.”

Still holding my face, he comes closer so we are eye to eye. “Christina Anne Daniels, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Since the day I laid eyes on you, you’ve been nothing but perfect to me. And I bet you I’m not the only one who sees you that way. Stop overthinking this. Just continue to do what comes from your heart. Pippa is a smart kid. She would see right through your façade. I believe what she sees now is natural. Pure unconditional love from her aunt.”

My heart completely cracks open. Tears quickly fill my vision, escaping down my face.

“Now why are you crying?” He smiles at me.

“Because everything you say to me is beautiful. Everything you do. Everything. Just everything.” I don’t even know what more to say. “I love you, Ian.”

“And since I ever knew what love was, I’ve loved you.”

I say no more, because seriously what can I say to possibly top that line.

L
AST NIGHT I MADE
a vow. Mainly to myself because Ian passed out after I completely wore him out. I decided that I would spend more time focusing on family. Sounds hypocritical coming from my mouth, but it’s time I grow up and realize I have very important shoes to fill and my part is vital. As much as I want to scrape my brain for having these thoughts, it’s important for Pippa. I decided that we would go visit John’s grandparents. Keep them active in her life. We haven’t been back to the cemetery so that is also on my list. Talking more to Pippa will help her understand. Then hopefully help her heal. I don’t expect this to happen overnight. I’m prepared for this to take all her young life until she’s able to understand. But I’m going to do my best to try.

Pippa surprisingly slept in her room the whole night, presumably due to exhaustion. She woke up her spunky self and went about her morning marching to the beat of her own drum. Ian and I obviously stared at her like she was some sort of alien specimen. Not sure if four-year-olds ever come out and say, ‘
So, about that scene yesterday,’
so we were at a loss about how to approach it.

Mum’s the word when Pippa offers to make her infamous breakfast. While we sit through frozen pancake hour, I watch as Ian fakes each bite, putting them in his pocket.
Cheater.
Between gags, I notice the answering machine has been taken off the wall. Thank God. I thought about taking that outdated electronic device outside and bashing it against the concrete until it resembled gravel. But then I remembered the tape inside. Amy’s voice was recorded on it and I bet Pippa would want that. Oh no, what if Ian has the same idea and—

“I took it out first,” Ian answers my mental freak-out.

“How did you know?” I ask, stunned.

“Because I could tell by watching your eyes.”

So perfect. So smug.

I mouth that I love him. Then I inform Pippa that Ian is still very, very hungry and would like more pancakes.

While cleaning up breakfast, we ask Pippa if she wants to go and visit her grandma and grandpa. She seems excited by the idea. I give Ian the honor of calling them ahead of time to let them know of our visit. When dressing for the occasion, I make sure to wear flats, in case I am pushed, and my hair in a bun, so there is less chance of my hair being pulled. You can never be too sure with these old crazies nowadays. That or I can only hope good ol’ Georgia Bishop has picked up her husband’s dementia.