One Day His (The Someday Series Book 2) (25 page)

While we primped, sharing the long mirror in my bathroom, Brandy asked a question that really got right down to the heart of the matter (as Brandy often had a tendency to do). “So, with her being such a destructive presence in your life, why come down here at all or even see her again in the first place? Why not just say, ‘Screw it. If the reporters find me in Arcata, I’ll deal with that, but I am not going subject myself to the whims of someone who hurts me’? You could tell Jerry that you’ll stick to the deal of not going public with the truth about your mother so your tuition bills still get paid, but just decline to participate in this whole”—she searched for the right word for a moment, finally settling on—“farce.”

Sandy said, “Um…excuse me, dear sister, but have you seen the freaking view out her bedroom window? I wouldn’t turn down the chance to come revisit that badass view every once in a while either.”

I laughed. I loved the way that Sandy kept things from getting too mired down, even when discussing the most serious of topics. “Yes,” I agreed, “the view certainly does not suck. And, Brandy, you bring up a good point. All this time, I’ve been telling myself that I was just so desperate not to have them find me up in Arcata. Obviously, it’s not like it would be difficult to discover where I go to college. I just thought that, if I made myself super available here, then there would be no reason for some eager reporter—or, God forbid, a bunch of them—to come sniffing around Arcata.

“I mean, I don’t know if you guys actually realize how idyllic that life for me is up there. No one realizes who I am. I have real friends. I have a boyfriend. I can just live my life in a beautiful place with beautiful people, and I love it so much.

“By my way of thinking, all of that would be ruined if a reporter—or, again, worse, a bunch of them—came up to Arcata and started asking a bunch of questions about me. I thought that people would look at me differently and treat me differently and that it would just, basically, become a whole different kind of life than the one I had. The lovely life I had created there would be destroyed. I realize, now, that I was being kind of dramatic…”

“Kind of?” Sandy interrupted sarcastically.

I stuck my tongue out at her and continued. “Now that I’m listening to you say it, I’m realizing it’s actually true—no matter what happens in Arcata, reporters or no reporters, I can handle it. I can do damage control. Some inconvenience and hassle may be on the line, but certainly my whole lifestyle is not on the line.”

“So, what is the deal then?” asked Evelyn.

“I think that, however ridiculous it might be when you think about it logically, she’s still my mom. There are times where she is normal…as normal as she can be. And as much as she’s hurt me, I don’t want to see her hurt. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth. She’s the only family I have.” I shrugged, admitting out loud something that I wasn’t even sure I’d completely admitted to myself, “I think a part of me keeps holding out hope that she’ll get better.”

The girls were silent for a moment. Brandy rubbed my shoulder, and her voice was gentle when she spoke. “I get that your subconscious hopes for that, even thinks it true…but on a conscious level, you realize that you can’t fix whatever’s wrong with her just by being nice enough, right? That will never happen.”

I nodded feeling the weight of the truth in Brandy’s statement, “I know that. I do.”

*

“Alright, the photographer
and reporter are here. I need you downstairs now,” Jerry announced as he stepped into my room—
without
knocking, of course.

As the girls all filed out, I could sense their excitement. I, on the other hand, was starting to get a very real, very intense, sense of dread. A couple of hours ago, having my friends here sounded like such a good idea. Now, the thought of them meeting my mother, of my mother meeting them, sounded like I was asking them to board the Titanic.

Stepping past Jerry as he was typing furiously in his phone, I asked quietly, “Does she know about the girls being—”

“Yes,” Jerry answered in a clipped tone. He glanced up with a smirk that honestly made the sense of dread multiply by about a million. “Your mother is taking care of a few things, so go ahead and start dinner. She’ll be down shortly.”

Jace placed his hand on my lower back as we made our way down the main staircase. With every step I took, I wanted to turn and run the other way. Something about not just the words but the
way
Jerry had delivered them was worrying me. Maybe I was just being dramatic. Maybe my mother just wanted to make an
entrance
. Maybe everything was fine…

When we reached the bottom, an attractive brunette woman dressed in dark navy slacks and a baby-blue button-up shirt stepped forward, extending her hand and giving me a smile that was warm, if not the most sincere. “Hello, you must be Catherine. I’m Johanna Burke, and this is my photographer, Peter.”

I shook both of their hands and returned the smile, making a conscious effort to push down the uneasiness that was overwhelming me at the moment. I didn’t want the fear and anxiety I was feeling to show on my face.

“Pleased to meet you,” I smiled and hoped that it didn’t look as tense as it felt on my face. Then, turning first to the girls and then to Jace, I made the obligatory introductions. “This is my boyfriend, Jace. And these are my roommates from college, Sandy, Brandy, and Evelyn.”

Each of the girls gave a small wave when I mentioned their name.

After the introductions were complete, I said, “I believe that dinner is actually ready to be served. If you will follow me into the dining room…”

With that, I turned and (with no stumbles or hesitation whatsoever) led the way into the dining room. Maybe I could pull this off after all.

The sight of the table when we walked into the room was utterly stunning. It was pure Norman Rockwell, with a glistening bird as the centerpiece and the settings were all meticulously detailed. Wow. Rachel had really outdone herself. I hoped she was incredibly proud because she had every reason to be.

Peter had the rest of us stand just outside the room long enough for him to take some shots of the gorgeous table. I was itching to give him Rachel’s name to include in the captions, but I knew that it would embarrass her—plus, my mother would not like that at all. It seemed like a silly thing to risk her flying into a rage over, so I held my tongue.

“Let’s sit,” I suggested pleasantly when Peter was finished.

Jace, Sandy, Brandy, Evelyn, and I took our seats around the table, but Johanna and Peter remained standing. I started feeling a little panicked. Shoot. I’d been doing the whole social thing fine while all of the interactions were fairly basic and by the book, but if they were going to go off script, I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do. Certainly, improvising was not my strong suit.

Normally, what I would do in a situation like this would be to directly ask what was going on. Whatever I lost in “cool points,” I would make up for in clarity. However, this was a whole different thing. These were people I needed to impress. I needed to send them away with the impression that I was flawless when the truth was, that I was anything but.

I had no idea what to say.

I was still staring, trying to come up with the inspiration for what to do or say, when Johanna spoke. “Aren’t we…waiting for your mother?”

Great. I could hear the slight condescending tone that people start to use when they think I’m an idiot or just too nerdy to be believed. Now, not only did I have to come up with a smooth explanation for where my mother might be, but I had to fight the urge that the judgment in her eyes was inspiring me to clam up.

“She’s just taking care of a few things. She’ll be down shortly.” As the words left my mouth, the sense that something was off, that something wasn’t right, grew exponentially.

Why was my mother still upstairs?

Was she upset about the girls being here?

Had my one small, manipulative rebellion put her in a manic state?

Did she think that the girls being here was just my way of getting more attention?

I had no idea. But I did know that I was sitting in a room with a photographer and reporter watching my every movement, my every facial expression. So I did the only thing I could think of doing in the moment.

I chirped cheerfully, “Let’s eat!” and desperately hoped that the girls and Jace would follow suit, that Johanna and Peter would simply feel too out of place to continue standing in the doorway, watching other people eat.

Fingers, toes, and eyes crossed.

Rachel and Don began setting our dishes in front of us and, thankfully, Johanna and Peter both sat down. Sandy did the job she had been brought there to do by filling the air with pleasant patter as we began dinner, and I honestly wanted to kiss her right on the lips. At that moment, I loved her just about as much as one human being can love another, which is to say—a whole lot.

Just as I was beginning to relax, my mother swept into the room, looking breathtakingly gorgeous. All the sound and movement in the room stopped. It had always been this way. My mother was like a sparkling sun—her light shone so bright that it naturally pulled all the attention to her. Just like always, I didn’t mind. I was grateful as hell to be off the hot seat.

“Oh, my,” she laughed. “Have we already started? I suppose we couldn’t be bothered to wait for the guest of honor, now could we?”

Johanna smiled smugly. “I thought that was odd. I suggested we wait.”

I sighed under my breath. There was no reason to try and defend myself. It wouldn’t do any good.

My mother moved towards the photographer, rewarding her with a hug. “Aren’t you just a dear? Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into Cat. I certainly didn’t raise her that way!”

My mother’s tone was light, as if this whole thing were just good-natured, familial teasing. But I heard the undercurrent. She wanted me to know what a disappointment I was. She would certainly let me know about it later, in greater detail, once we were alone. But, it didn’t matter because I would be out of here tomorrow, and over these past few days I’d learned a lot about myself and I knew that if and when I did return here, I would not be walked over like a doormat. The days of my mother treating me bad, speaking to me anyway she wanted, were over.

Jace put his hand over mine in support and I gave him a quick and grateful glance. It didn’t go unnoticed by my mother, but she didn’t have the reaction I’d expected her to. There was no tightening of her lips, no nearly imperceptible tensing of her back and shoulders. Rather, there was a just a small, superior smirk that froze my insides more completely than her flying into a rage could have done. Dread, more powerful than any I’d felt before, crashed over me like a tsunami wave. I fought the strong urge to stand up and tell Jace and the girls that it was time for us to go.

But I was trying to grow up. Take some of my power back. My mother could only upset me if I let her. So I smiled and tried to calm myself with deep, even breaths.
After all,
I thought,
what’s the worst that could happen here? A few more mildly cutting comments that may potentially embarrass me?
There was nothing my mother could say that would be more public or more embarrassing than the YouTube video that was currently circulating of me freezing up on the talk show. The worst had already happened.

Besides, my mother was not likely to do anything here at this dinner that was too outlandish. She couldn’t take the risk that it would backfire and make her look bad, as well as me. Therefore, if I could just grit my teeth and smile through the rest of this dinner, I could get back in Jace’s truck—and then I would finally,
finally
, go back to Arcata and my regular life.

I just had to grin and bear it for a couple of hours.

“So, Angelica, tell me. What is it like sharing this beautiful Thanksgiving with your family just a few days after almost losing your life in a horrific car accident? Does it give you a new perspective on life?”

Wow. So Johanna had no problem asking leading questions. At least the thrust of the article she wanted to write was there, plainly laid out in her very first question. She was angling for a piece that would showcase someone who had gained new insight and new appreciation for life after having a near-death experience. It was actually a pretty good angle and would probably make a great article. It was emotional, pulled at the heartstrings, and had universal appeal.

It didn’t really matter that it was lies.

“Oh, Johanna, that is so true. Family has always been the most important thing to me by far. My darling daughter, Cat, is my whole life, really. The sacrifices I have made for her… Well, I could tell you stories. But it has all been worth it. I’ve always known that.

“But then, as I lay in my hospital bed just days ago, inches from death, not knowing if I would ever see my precious child’s face again—it all became even clearer to me. Nothing matters, not any of it, if you don’t have your health and the people you love. The fame, the money—none of it holds a candle to the simple joy of sitting around this holiday table with my family and dear friends.”