Someone Else's Life (21 page)

Holly

I ride on autopilot, just concentrating on breathing, on pedaling, the wind streaming through my hair, Rosie’s words washing in and out of my mind like the tide.

Chorea
.

Mood swings
.

Disabled
.

Nursing home
.

Hereditary
.

Fatal
.

I cycle harder, trying to outpace them, to blot them out as I race through the dark dappled shadows of the forest. But they’re still there. They always will be.

I break out of the trees and there they are, the endless undulating desert of dunes, beautiful and terrifying, windswept and barren, and as empty and bleak as my future.

Maybe this is my punishment for not being ambitious, for not being academic, for wasting my life on sports and sculptures and having no real aspirations or goals. You leave your future empty, and something’s bound to come along to fill it up …

But I
did
have dreams. I blink against the wind, the tears. I had hopes. Maybe not academically, vocationally … but I’m
engaged
—that must mean
something?

I sail down one dune and struggle up another, lost in the sea of sand.
But what now? What’ll happen to me? To Josh? To our life together?

To our baby
.

I skid to a stop, throw down my bike and collapse onto the cool silky sand, hugging my knees as I watch the dying sun drown in the endless ocean.

It’ll be okay, I tell myself, forcing myself to take deep breaths.
It’ll be all right. Josh loves me
—
he promised
—
till death do us part …

However long that’ll be.

I blink quickly, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone; I turn it on.

Seven missed calls
. All Josh. I press Redial, then hold my breath.

It rings for a few seconds, then goes to voice mail.

“Josh, please call.” I hesitate, unsure what to say next, the words I need to say playing dangerously on my lips. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, but I can’t—can’t tell him. Not over the phone.

“I love you,” I sigh, the words snatched away on the wind as I hang up quickly, swallowing hard, trying to stifle the questions, the fear rising in my chest.

Do you love me?

Did you mean it when you said you’d always love me, no matter what?

Even if I might have Huntington’s disease?

I close my eyes.

And I’m pregnant
.

Rosie

I check Andy’s text again as I hurry up the hill toward the glowing neon-pink café, its rainbow flag fluttering proudly beside the Stars and Stripes. Provincetown keeps surprising me with its mix of old-world charm—clapboard houses, traditional churches and tributes to the Pilgrims—nestled harmoniously next to brightly graffitied shops, weird sculptures, vibrant art galleries and a liberal gay scene.

I double-check my phone, making sure there’re no new messages. He’s sent four since I saw him—the first from another café, then an art gallery, then the library and the last from right here. I push open the glass door, sending a little bell jangling merrily as I scour the white wicker tables, beanbags and hammocks lit by a festival of colorful paper lanterns.

“I canceled the taxi.”

I turn to see Andy sitting alone at a table beneath a fluffy pink lamp, his rucksack slumped beside him.

“There you are!” I smile, walking over. “I wasn’t sure I’d got the right place—this doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

He shrugs. “It’s dry, it’s open. Nearly everywhere else shut at five.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, sliding into a chair. “I lost track of time. Holly wanted to talk—about everything. It helped, I think.”

“That’s good.” He smiles tiredly.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” I nod. “Anything I can do to make this better, right?”

“Right.” He nods, stroking my hand. “So I take it you don’t want to leave, then?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, they need me here.”

He nods. “They’re your family.”

“They are.”
I beam, warmth flooding through me. “And I think I might actually be able to do some good now—help Holly through this—salvage something from this whole mess.”

“That’s great, Rose.” Andy squeezes my hand. “Really great.”

“It is.” I smile, weary with relief. “Anyway, we’d better get back, coz Jack’s making us soup—I hope you’re hungry!”

I stand up but Andy doesn’t move.

“Andy?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “Yeah … I think I might still go back to the B and B.”

“Why?” I stare at him. “I told you, we can stay.”

“You can stay,” he tells me. “You can stay, Rose, and you should. This is what you came for—this is your family, your place.” He sighs. “But I’m just getting in the way.”

“You’re not,” I insist, sitting back down and grabbing his hand. “Andy, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“But now you have,” he says softly. “You’re here. You’ve told them. You’re helping Holly.” He smiles. “But this is a difficult situation, Rose—it’s really fragile, and my being here … it’s not helping.”

“It’s helping me!” I protest. “I need you, Andy. I love you. You’re the only one who knows me,
really
knows me. Don’t leave me on my own.”

“I’ve been on my own all day.”

“I know,” I say. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay—I understand.” He sighs. “And it would be different if I thought you actually needed me, Rose, or even if I could help somehow. But I’m not family, I can’t help, and you have to admit it’s easier to talk to Holly when I’m not there.”

I open my mouth to protest, then look away miserably.

“She doesn’t need an audience, Rosie—it’s hard enough already. It’s easier if I make myself scarce while you all work through this … and that would be fine if we were still in New York—in any city, really—but this town … most of it’s closed for the winter, I’ve been everywhere else and the only places open late are bars I can’t even go in because I’m not twenty-one!”

“I’m sorry.” I squeeze his hand desperately.

“Don’t be!” Andy sighs. “You need to do this, you need to give all your time and energy to Holly—without worrying about me. This is difficult enough for everyone without me complicating things.” He strokes my hair away from my face. “How about I just give you guys some space, some time alone together as a family to work things out? I’ll go on down to Washington, stay with my family—”

“No!” I protest vehemently.

“Rosie, it’s just a few hours away, there’s a direct train to Boston—I can be back in no time if you need me.” He smooths my frown lines. “You’re not really interested in all those stuffy monuments anyway, are you? And you’ll escape my Aunt Patty’s inquisition—she can be pretty brutal when it comes to her boys—ask Lola.” He grins, his eyes softening as he gazes into mine, and my heart falters. “Then I’ll come back, or you can come and join me, and we’ll go on traveling together when …” He trails off. “… whenever.”

I stare at him miserably. When will that be? In a week? A month? He’s right, it’s not fair to keep him here twiddling his thumbs indefinitely, and he wouldn’t be far away, but … My heart twists. But I’d miss him so much.

“No,” I decide. “No, just give me a few more days—I’ll make this work, I promise. Tomorrow—tomorrow we’ll spend the whole day together—just us,” I say desperately. “I’ll make up for leaving you alone today.”

He sighs.

“We’ll—we’ll go whale watching, okay?” I clutch his hands. “Second-time lucky? You can’t leave without seeing any whales!”

“Rosie …”

“I want to be with you.”

He sighs heavily. “And what about Jack? And Holly?”

I hesitate.

“You see?” he says sadly. “It’s impossible.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head stubbornly. “It’s not impossible—I love you …” I thread my arms around him, knotting him to me as he runs his thumb gently over my bottom lip, his gaze troubled.

“So, what do you say?” I search his eyes hopefully. “Tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

“Scout’s honor?” He raises an eyebrow. “Just you and me?”

“Dib dib dob,” I say solemnly. “Just you and me … and a whole load of whales.”

“Well,” he sighs, pulling me closer and kissing me. “I suppose one more night can’t hurt.”

Holly

I stare at my cell phone as the first morning rays peep through my window.

It’s 9:31 a.m.

I feel like I’ve been lying here for days, watching the minutes drag slowly, silently by. Just lying. Just breathing. Too weary to move, too tired for tears.

I pick up my phone and check it’s not on mute.

It’s not.

Full signal. Full battery. No missed calls. No texts—except from Melissa, who’s left a dozen impatient messages demanding to know why I wasn’t at school, why I’m not answering my phone, begging me to call her to fill her in on all the exciting news about my awesome new family and my amazing new mom …

Yeah, I think. My
amazing
new
dead
mom, who’s probably given me a fatal disease …

Awesome
.

I try Josh again, but when he still doesn’t answer, I don’t leave a message. I’ve already left five voice mails—and ten texts.

Where are you, Josh?

Maybe he’s lost his phone? Maybe it’s been stolen? Maybe it’s charging—plugged into his dorm-room wall while he’s been out … all night long …

Come on, Holls
, I tell myself.
Josh loves you
—
you’re engaged! What more reassurance do you need?

I stare at my ring, its plastic gem glowing reassuringly.

But that was before
.

I glance at the computer screen, then close my eyes, which are red and sore from reading and surfing and searching and crying all night as I watch my future showcased on YouTube.

9:32 a.m.

I sigh and reach for my glass of water. Empty. Figures.

I weigh my options dully. Die of thirst or get up and face the world. Pretty even.

I take a deep breath, then heave myself out of bed, the blood rushing to my head as my feet hit the floor, the room spinning mercilessly. Another deep breath and I open the door.

Nothing happens.

No tornado transports me to Oz, no snowy forest appears beyond the doorway, no scenes of destruction and desolation. Just the landing and the stairs and the sound of Megan clattering in the kitchen.

The world hasn’t changed at all, hasn’t stopped turning, hasn’t stood still.

So why do I feel like I’m falling so fast right through its center?

I make it safely down the stairs and wander slowly into the living room to find Ben watching cartoons.

“Hey, Benji,” I say, kissing his head as I sink down beside him.

“Hey,” he replies, flopping onto my lap and grinning up at me.

My heart lifts. “Who’s winning, Tom or Jerry?” I ask, brushing his bangs from his sparkling eyes.

“Jerry,” Ben giggles, pointing. “Duh!”

Duh
. I smile, my fingers curling absently in his soft hair. Ben’s watching cartoons, Jerry’s eluding Tom. Nothing has changed. I close my eyes and let the loud cartoon music fade away.

Nothing has changed
.

A loud knocking sound wakes me before I realize I’m asleep.

I glance at Ben, still glued to the TV screen. Maybe I imagined it.

Another knock and I hear Megan rush to open the front door.

“Oh, hello.” A woman’s crisp English accent floats through the doorway, “I wonder if you could help me, I’m looking for Jack? Jack Woods?”

I frown at the strange voice—she sounds oddly familiar, yet somehow I can’t place her. Who do I know from England? Besides Hurricane Rosie.

I peer over the back of the sofa through the half-open living room door, but can only see Megan.

“Oh! Right. Please come in,” she says, brushing her frazzled hair out of her eyes, leaving a streak of soap suds across her forehead. She wipes her hands on a dishcloth. “Can I get you a cup of tea? Coffee?”

“Lovely.”

Megan steps aside, blocking my view as the woman enters, her heels clicking down the corridor to the kitchen.

Burning with curiosity, I slide Ben gently onto the sofa and stand up.

Then I see it.

There, on the street outside my house, is a limo. A bona fide stretch limo. I stare at it gleaming by the sidewalk, then pinch myself. This has to be a dream.

Dazed, I creep down the corridor and peek into the kitchen.

I wasn’t dreaming.

The woman is gorgeous. Like, movie-star gorgeous—about thirty, but just so glamorous, her bobbed black hair gleaming in the morning sunshine, her makeup flawless, her tailored cream dress clinging immaculately to her curves. She’s stunning. And strangely familiar …

“Black coffee, no sugar.” She beams at Megan. “Thank you so much.”

“Same, thanks,” another woman says.

I blink—I hadn’t even noticed her. She’s a little older, with pointy features, a tight blond bun and an oversized Gucci bag. She reminds me of Meryl Streep in
The Devil Wears Prada
—only with Gucci.

“Jack should be here any minute.” Megan smiles nervously, the best cups and saucers clattering in her hands. “I’m Megan, by the way.”

The movie star steps toward her smoothly, hand outstretched.

“Lovely to meet you, Megan. I’m Kitty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Megan says, wiping her hand quickly on her skirt and shaking Kitty’s hand. “Sorry, you look so familiar, have we met bef—” Suddenly her eyes pop. “Oh, my God!” she gasps. “You’re Kitty Clare!”

Kitty Clare! Oh, my God!
My heart beats quickly. I’m
such
an idiot—of
course
that’s who she is—she’s on our TV
every single week
—
For Richer, For Poorer
, Dad’s favorite sitcom! Oh, my God, Melissa will totally flip when I tell her! Kitty Clare is in my house! In my kitchen!
And I’m in my hippo pj’s!

“I love your work!” Megan gushes excitedly, her curls frizzier than ever. “That episode where you and Mitch got stuck in the elevator—hilarious!”

Kitty smiles graciously.

“And then when the firefighter finally arrived and you said—”

“Megan?” Dad calls, bursting in through the back door. “Megan, have you seen my—” He stops midstride. “Katharine!”

I frown, confused, as he stares at Kitty Clare.

Katharine?

“Actually … it’s Kitty now.” She smiles, a hint of nervousness in her eyes as she stands up to face Dad, turning her back to me. “Hello, Jack. It’s been a long time.”

I watch as they stare at each other, my head whirling.
What’s going on? How does Dad know Kitty Clare? And why’d he call her
—

My heart stops.

“Katharine?”

Dad spins around, horrified. “Sweetheart!”

I back away from the doorway as Kitty begins to turn, just as Rosie strolls down the stairs.

“Morning!” She smiles at me, walking obliviously into the kitchen.

“Rosie—” Dad starts urgently.

“Rosie!” Kitty cries, swooping toward her. “Oh, Rosie, darling, thank God!”

I freeze, paralyzed, as she engulfs Rosie in a tight embrace.

It’s her. Katharine
—
Kitty. Kitty Clare. The mother who never wanted me
.

I stare at her as she drowns Rosie with affection, a sick feeling growing in my stomach.

The mother who never wanted
me
.