The Secret of Joy (29 page)

“Michael and I are up in the air. My whole life in New York is up in the air. I am sort of seeing Theo. Trying to figure things out. Do you think that’s wrong? To be seeing him while I’m still involved with someone else?”

“Well, you’re living here,” Maggie pointed out. “You’ve been here for, what, almost a month. You rented a house. You have a
dog
.”

“It’s not fair to keep the New York guy hanging on, if that’s what you’re doing,” Lucy said. “I mean, I don’t know the circumstances, though.”

“Circumstances shouldn’t make a wrong a right, though,” Darren said.

“I don’t know,” Ellie said. “It’s not like Rebecca’s married. This is how and when you’re supposed to figure out who you want to be with.
Before
you get married.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Maggie said, raising her margarita glass.

Everyone clinked. But Rebecca knew that what she was doing was still cheating. Married or not.

Rebecca got the opportunity to properly thank Theo (for the doghouse
and
their incredible evening) later that night. And the next night. And the next. And on Friday, he was her official date to her housewarming party. Ellie and Maggie were there.
And Arlene and Marianne. (Matteo was trying to work things out with the girlfriend.) And Victor and Victoria, their hands seemingly fused together.

And an hour late, but bearing a beautiful orchid plant, were Joy and Harry.

Rebecca couldn’t stop smiling like a fool. Joy was
here
. And not for any reason—such as to discuss something or because Rebecca had practically begged. She was here because Rebecca had invited her to her housewarming party. And she’d come.

After tour after tour of her tiny house (which now bore a few new vases, candles, and plants, thanks to her guests), Rebecca came back down to the living room to find Joy and Maggie deep in conversation on the sofa. Rebecca sidled up, ostensibly to remove empty drinking glasses from the coffee table.

“Oh, I wish I could, Joy,” Maggie was saying, “but Ellie and I promised one of the members of our Bitter Exes Club that we’d take him to a comedy club tomorrow night.”

“Well, I guess I can scratch Ellie off my list,” Joy said, pushing her blond hair behind her shoulders. “Hmm. I’ve already asked Arlene and both my neighbors. No one’s available. I wish someone would start a pinch-sitting service in town—‘Need a babysitter at a moment’s notice, call us.’”

“I’ll do it,” Rebecca said.
I’ll babysit my nephew. And it’ll cost you nothing
.

Joy stared at her.

Rebecca had to tread lightly here. She did have that one great morning at the library under her belt, but ever since the DNA argument, Joy had been very distant. “Rex does like my
face, remember? And he knows me now—he’s seen me a few times.”
C’mon, say yes
.

“Problem solved,” Maggie said, popping a Hershey’s Kiss into her mouth.

“Problem solved,” Joy repeated, eyeing Rebecca. “Well, if you’re sure you’d like to, I’d really appreciate it.” She hesitated, then whispered, “Harry and I are attempting a real date. Getting dolled up, going out to a fancy restaurant. The works.”

Rebecca beamed. “That’s great. What time should I be there?”

“Six would be perfect.”

“Six it is, and you get home when you get home. No set time.”

Joy let out what Rebecca knew was a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

I have a nephew
, Rebecca thought for the hundredth time since she’d first seen Rex Jayhawk-Jones. The wonder of it never abated, though, never seemed anything less than magical. She had a sister and a nephew when a few weeks ago there had been no one.

Rex was too adorable. Rebecca understood why this three-foot-tall little bundle of energy made Harry want to be a better person. Rebecca hadn’t spent much time around little kids—any kids, really. She’d had no idea just how funny and clever and interesting three-year-olds were. Rex wanted to be a cloud for Halloween, which he pronounced Hah-EEN. His favorite food was an apple slice, but maybe a chocolate brownie, or,
no, “strawbry” ice cream. His favorite color was orange. His favorite person was Elmo—and his mommy and his daddy.

She looked for Grandpa Strand in Rex’s face, and even though Harry’s coloring dominated—the brown hair, the hazel eyes, Rex had the Strand round eyes, the Strand nose, and the Strand chin.

You are my nephew
, Rebecca thought, watching Rex stack multicolored blocks on top of each other for the door of the fort they were building in the family room. She felt a surge of emotion in her heart for this little boy—because he was her nephew? Or because she knew the story of his parents, how much this child meant to them, and they meant something to her?

“Wanna color wid me?” he asked, and they moved on to his collection of coloring books. He chose the robots, and for the next half hour, they colored five robots each, then Rebecca hung his little masterpieces up on the clothesline of artwork hung across the wall.

Seven o’clock was his bedtime. And so they headed upstairs for teeth brushing and pajamas (footies with clouds and lightning bolts) and Rebecca read him three stories, all about pigs, but “none with wolves cuz they’re not so nice.” She was almost done with the third when she realized he was asleep, his little mouth open, one hand flung up on his forehead.

God, he was precious. Rebecca didn’t have baby fever yet, but she could imagine having a little Rex of her own. She turned off the lamp and tiptoed out, leaving the door slightly ajar, then headed back downstairs, her heart full to bursting.

Rebecca was reading one of the magazines on the
coffee table when Joy and Rex returned home. Harry barely said hello before stomping downstairs to his half-finished basement.

Uh-oh.

Joy burst into tears, and Rebecca took her by the hand and led her to the couch.

“Everything okay with Rex?” Joy asked, sniffling.

Rebecca nodded. “He’s an angel.”

“I’m just going to check on him. I’ll be right back.” She returned a minute later and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her. She didn’t look at Rebecca, didn’t say anything.

“Joy?”

Joy leaned her head back against the couch and stretched out her legs. “We just can’t get past the same old argument. I don’t know how we’re ever going to get past this. It’s
my
business. Why can’t he understand that? Why can’t he understand me?”

“About your father?” Rebecca asked.

“That and everything else. I finally told him about our conversation, about the money and the DNA test, that I don’t even want the money, and he flipped out. So I accused him of wanting the money, of only caring about that, and he got so angry and insisted we leave.”

“Do you really think he only cares about the money?” Rebecca didn’t know Harry well, of course, but she’d spent the weekend with him in that lodge and she’d bet anything he didn’t care about the money at all. He cared about Joy.

Joy shrugged. “It’d be nice to have, wouldn’t it? I
get
it. I just … I don’t know. Do you and Harry really think I don’t
want half a million dollars? Six hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Rex’s education will be assured. Our home can be paid for in full. We can buy a new car instead of constantly dumping money into the old one just to pass inspection each year. And I could do fewer tours. And Harry could take a vacation instead of working twenty-four/seven. And my parents could finally retire if they want. Yeah, the money would be nice. But it doesn’t feel like
mine
. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to
me
. I hate that there’s nothing behind it, nothing attached to it. That’s what Harry doesn’t get.”

“But there is something attached,” Rebecca said gently. “The letters Daniel Strand wrote you. Maybe it would help if you read them.”

Joy shook her head. “I don’t want to read them. Harry doesn’t get that, either. He keeps saying I’m emotionally blocked and this is the sterling example.”

He has a point, Joy
, Rebecca thought. There would come a day when she and Joy would be able to argue and bicker like sisters did, when Rebecca could say what needed to be said, and she wouldn’t have to worry that Joy would slam the door. Because that’s what sisters did—they argued and bickered and then made up, because they were sisters. The door was always open.

“I don’t know how you’ll feel about this suggestion, Joy, but would it help if you talked to your mom about all this? Maybe what she has to say would somehow loosen all this for you a little.”

Joy let out a deep breath. “Maybe it would. I don’t know that, either. I never talk about it with her. I will, though, if the
DNA test confirms that your father is definitely my father. Otherwise, like I said, the money is a moot point if he’s not.”

“Moot or not,” Harry said from the doorway, “we need some help.” He came into the living room and sat across from them. “Rebecca, I want to hire you as a mediator. I think Joy and I need to sit down and really talk this out with someone impartial guiding us, leading us back to center when things get heated.”

“She’s hardly impartial,” Joy said.

“Why not?” Harry said. “You’re the one who keeps calling her a stranger.”

Touché, Harry
.

Joy was silent for a moment, then turned to Rebecca. “What would it be like? The sessions, I mean.”

“Whoa,” Rebecca said. “I’m not a marriage counselor. I’m not even a trained mediator. I don’t have a degree in counseling or a certificate in anything. I’m just a paralegal in a divorce mediation firm.
Was
.”

“We’ve seen you in action,” Harry said. “You’re good at this. I don’t want to go to some marriage counselor who has no idea who we are. I can’t stand the idea of starting at the beginning when we’re in the middle.”

“I can understand that,” Rebecca said. She turned to Joy. “Are you okay with it? If you’re game. I am.”

“What will it be like?” she asked again. “How does it work? He says his piece and I say mine? Is it just arguing back and forth?”

“What I’d try to do is limit the arguing. Yeah, Harry says his piece—but you listen. Then I ask both of you questions about
it. If there’s arguing, I change tacks. And then you say your piece, and Harry listens. And then I ask you both questions about it. And somewhere in there, both of you start to hear each other a little better. And hopefully, you start seeing things from the other’s perspective. You take some time with it. And you mix all that together with how much love there is between you, and things start to change.”

“That
does
sound good,” Joy said. “You can really accomplish that?”

“Not so much me.
You
. And you,” she added to Harry. “I could come here, if you’d feel more comfortable on your turf, or if you want a neutral zone, you can come to my house.”

“I’d prefer here,” Joy said.

“How about Monday at six p.m.,” Harry asked.

“Monday at six, it is,” Rebecca said.

Joy reached into her purse and pulled out some bills and held them out to Rebecca. “For tonight.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I won’t take money for tonight. And I won’t take money for the sessions. Take it or leave it.”

Harry smiled. “You drive a tough bargain.”

“You’re used to that,” Joy said with a smile, and Rebecca knew her work would be difficult, but not
that
difficult. This was not a divorcing couple. This was a couple with much, much more than a flicker of love.

This was a couple
deeply
in love, truly committed to each other, yet having some serious problems in hearing each other, compromising, accepting.

And bringing them back together would be Rebecca’s greatest pleasure.

• • •

The chimes of Rebecca’s cell phone woke her up. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was after two in the morning.

Michael. “So I think you should know that my relationship with my new friend has progressed to something slightly romantic.”

Rebecca leaned back against her pillows. “Did you just leave her apartment or something?”

“I’m home now. Sitting on the sofa and feeling like shit.”

“I’m dating someone, too,” she said softly.

“Great, so we’re seeing other people. Or did we break up and someone forgot to tell me?”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said, “I sent in the DNA test. I’ll have the results by the end of next week. It was nice of you to enclose the check, by the way.”

“I thought you might need it, if the test proves she’s your sister and you hand her seven hundred thousand dollars.” At her silence, he added, “If she
is
, are you going to stay up there? Permanently?”

She got out of bed and walked over to the windows and sat on the little padded bench. She looked out into the inky darkness. There were no stars twinkling tonight. “I don’t know, Michael. I really don’t know. I just feel like I’m between two worlds right now, and right now, this is where I need to be.”

“Where you
want
to be, Rebecca.”

“Where I want to be, then.”

“How much longer do you expect me to give you? This indefinite crap is wearing thin. Or are you saying it’s up to
me? That if I want to call it a day, all I have to do is say so, and you’ll hang up and go screw your new boyfriend.”

She went back to her bed and slid under the comforter, pulling it up to her chin. “I suppose it is up to you, Michael. I don’t know for sure how I feel about anything right now. I know that there was once something incredible between us, but that it’s been gone for a long time.”

Silence. And then: “Do you think we can get it back? It was weird being with someone else, Becs.”

It wasn’t for me, though
, she thought. Should it have been? Did that mean she really didn’t love Michael? Why didn’t she know? “Do you think we can?”

“I don’t know. But I know we can’t while you’re living more than three hundred miles away.”

“I can’t come back right now.”

“You’ve said that over and over, and I still don’t know why. Is it the guy?”