The Word Game (12 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TRICI
A

Sunday afternoon

Tricia paced the floor of her kitchen. Mark had already herded the kids down into the basement with her father, which left her and her mom alone.

“Beer, whiskey, or wine?” Ida sipped at her tea, and Tricia knew from the way her mother’s eyes twinkled that the tea was spiked.

“Beer.” She opened the fridge and took out a
doppelbock
, a type of German beer her father always brought with him.

When these dinners were at her house, her mother always took over, and truth be told, Tricia didn’t mind. The kitchen became her mother’s domain, and Tricia was just there to help out.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Ida asked.

Tricia shook her head. “Hasn’t been a good idea so far.”

“You need to calm down before she gets here.”

Tricia snorted.

“I mean it. I won’t be having you both arguing or ruining a perfectly good meal over this.” Ida set her tea down and headed to the sink full of potatoes.

“I think this is more important than a roast, don’t you?” Since when did her mother care about ruining a good meal? Growing up, meal times were loud, raucous affairs—her parents would argue back and forth about the littlest things, and more often than not in German.

“What I think is that your father and I are getting old and can’t handle the stress anymore. That’s what I think.” Ida sighed as she began to scrub the potatoes and then set them in a bowl.

“You’re just afraid of how Alyson will respond, aren’t you?” She watched the way her mother kept her head down, unable to look her in the eye and knew . . . she knew . . .

“Oh my god, Mother. You can’t be serious? Alyson is not some frail child anymore. She’s a bloody adult.”

“Don’t you swear at me.” Ida’s shoulders stiffened, and Tricia threw her arms up in exasperation.

“So sorry.” She picked up a knife and potato and began chopping.

“The skins need to come off.”

“Let’s try something new for a change.” She continued to chop the potato into small pieces before throwing them in a pot.

They worked in silence, Ida cleaning while Tricia chopped, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You do realize what’s she’s done, right?”

Her mother nodded. “I do.”

“There’s no going back. None. What if she’s wrong?” Tricia’s grip on the knife tightened. Ida reached over and gently placed her hand over top of the knife, and Tricia let go. The knife dropped into the sink, and Tricia let out the deep breath she’d been holding in.

Getting upset with her mother wasn’t going to solve anything. She needed her mom on her side. She needed an ally when she confronted her sister.

“No, you’re right. She has no idea. She’s reacting out of fear, when she should have talked to you first. But getting upset with her won’t help anything—you and I both know that.”

“Stop making excuses for her.” Tricia shook her head.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You always have. We both have. All this family has done is try to shelter her, to keep her safe when we should have made her face the truth. She thinks she’s so strong, but she’s not.” Clarity hit Tricia so hard she almost reeled back. She was just as much to blame as the rest of her family.

“I hope you’re not placing all of this on your father and I—”

Tricia reached out and rested a hand on her mother’s arm, stopping her. “Of course not. We’ve all done it.” She leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “We’re all to blame,” she whispered.

“Tricia . . .” Her mother leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “I don’t even . . . I just . . . I want my family to be safe. To be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Tricia didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded. Things happened to their family years ago that they never fully recovered from, and it seemed like today was the day of reckoning.

“Whatever you do”—Ida went back to washing the dwindling mound of potatoes in the sink—“please don’t let it tear this family apart. Speak to your sister, get her to see what she’s done, and try to fix it. Please?”

Of course she would. That’s what she did—fixed things for her sister, even if Alyson never saw it that way. She’d lied to her all those years ago, never once admitting the truth to her.

There were secrets upon secrets within their family. What was one more secret?

She knew what her mother was asking. No matter what actually happened to her daughter or between their daughters, her mother wanted the truth hidden, swept under the rug. It was easier that way. Easier for Ida.

“Hey, Mom?” Katy appeared in the kitchen. “Um, Opa wants to know if there’s more tea.” Her gaze dropped to the floor.

Tricia knew she must have heard part of the conversation. But how much?

“Of course he wants his tea,” Ida mumbled beneath her breath and reached for the cup Katy held in her hand. “He should come out and get it himself rather than send you for it. Go tell him that.” She shooed Katy out of the kitchen and shook her head. “What is he thinking?”

“He’s probably too scared to come in here. I’ll take it to him.” Tricia waited for her mother to pour the tea and add the whiskey. “Leave the rest of the potatoes. I’ll be right back.”

She took the tea and headed down the stairs, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on herself, not surprised to find her daughter waiting for her at the bottom.

“Why are you and Oma arguing?”

“We’re not.” Tricia sighed. “We just . . . see things differently, that’s all.”

Katy crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not what Opa said.”

“Oh really?” Tricia’s eyebrow rose at her daughter’s stubbornness. “And what exactly did your dear Opa say?”

“That war was brewing, and he knew better than to find himself enlisted.” Katy shrugged.

“Unfortunately, your Opa is already involved, whether he likes it or not.” She smiled at her daughter, hoping to alleviate the tension she saw in Katy, and walked past her into the room.

“I’ve never known you to run from a fight.” She smiled down at her father while handing him his tea.

“Not running. I just know when to retreat and when to advance. Today there’s no victory in advancing.”

“Angsthase.”
She just called her father a scaredy-cat.

He only shrugged before taking a sip of his tea.

She turned but hesitated halfway up the stairs, eavesdropping on the conversation her mother was having with Alyson, who must have just arrived.

“Oops.” Scott hesitated at the top of the stairs. “Didn’t see you coming up. Sorry,” Scott said.

“No worries. Everyone is downstairs, as I’m sure you know.” Tricia tried to smile back, but hearing her sister’s voice brought back all the rage she’d felt earlier. “I didn’t expect you guys to show up so soon.”

“Aly wanted to come.”

“Hey, Aunt Tricia.” Lyla appeared behind her father.

“Hey, honey,” she said as she climbed the remaining stairs to give her niece a hug. “Did you have swim practice this morning?” She fingered Lyla’s damp braid, which hung over her shoulder. “Why don’t you go down and see the others. Opa has a football game on, but I think the boys are wanting to play a game.”

She watched as both her niece and brother-in-law walked away before she stepped forward and into the kitchen.

“Hey, Tricia. I brought some wine.” Alyson stood there, holding a wine bottle out toward her.

“Is that a peace offering?” Tricia asked.

“Mom just asked me the same thing.” Alyson set the bottle down on the counter.

“Why did you do it, Aly? Why did you have to tell Rachel?”

“Tricia . . .” Alyson swallowed and struggled with her words. She reached out, but Tricia shook her head.

“No. I don’t want excuses, just the truth. Did you think it would be a good idea, that once you told Rachel, all your fears would go away? Did you even once stop to think about Myah?”

“I didn’t mean to . . . well, I did, but I wanted to . . . I wasn’t expecting . . .”

“What do you mean, you didn’t mean to? Did you or did you not meet with her this morning with the sole purpose of telling her about the sleepover? And did you not tell her about Keera and your fear that she’d been abused sexually?”

“Yes, I did. But it’s not what you think. She’s my friend. I needed to bounce something off of her. I needed to talk through my fears and find out if it really was just me.” She sighed. “You all think that I’m just projecting this, that I’m living in the past and letting it overshadow everything else, and I needed to know.”

“So you had to ask your best friend who is also the principal of the school our girls go to? What were you thinking Alyson?”

It was time to stop protecting Alyson, to stop soothing her or walking on tiptoe around her. She’d screwed up big time, and it was all Tricia could do
not
to freak out on her.

“Tricia.” Her mother warned her.

“No.” Alyson stepped up. “She’s right. I wasn’t thinking. Rachel basically said the same thing too. It doesn’t change anything though,” Alyson said.

“Excuse me? This changes everything. Everything, Alyson. Don’t you get that?”

“I do.”

Tricia shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. Not really. Did you think about Myah at all? Did you think about how she’s about to get broadsided with this, thanks to you? And what about our kids? Did you think about what this is going to do to them?”

“I get it, Tricia. I do. But Keera is one of our own, right? If she’s not at your house, she’s at my house. Our girls are growing up together. What if I’m right? What if?” Alyson blinked away tears that gathered in her eyes.

“We need more information before we make accusations. That’s the point, Aly.”

“That’s enough,” Ida interjected before she picked up Tricia’s discarded knife and began to chop the potatoes. “You girls can be nice to one another or take this conversation elsewhere. But I warn you, if you leave, you’ll regret it.” She gave them both the
mother stare
,
and Tricia backed down. For now.

“Now, these potatoes need to get on the stove, and the last thing I need is your father grumpy because dinner isn’t ready in time. So why don’t you pitch in and help?”

Tricia grabbed the ingredients for a salad out of her fridge.

There was an edge to the silence in the kitchen while the women worked.

“Aly? Everything okay? Your father sent me to check things out and make sure you’re all still in one piece.” Scott stood in the kitchen doorway.

Alyson shook her head, Ida held her knife up, and Tricia . . . well, she was tired of keeping quiet, of keeping the peace or putting others ahead of herself.

“I got a call from Rachel,” Tricia told him.

“I figured as much,” he said, looking at Alyson.

“You know, Keera rarely sees Eddie unless she’s at the theater,” said Tricia. “And last night? She was at home with her mom. How do I know? Because I texted Myah and asked. Yes, I thought of it, Alyson. But instead of jumping the gun and overreacting, I wanted to get the facts first. And I was going to meet with Myah tomorrow and talk to her about this. But now I can’t.” Tricia’s shoulders sank. “Why couldn’t you have just waited, Alyson? You should have given me time.”

“I did. If you had answered my text messages and e-mails, then I wouldn’t have—”

“Seriously? You’re going to place the blame back on me?”

“Whoa!” Scott interrupted. “I think we all need to sit down and discuss this. Does Mark know?” Scott asked.

“Yes, get out of the kitchen,” Ida muttered.

“Mother . . .”

“What?” Ida turned to Tricia, tears in her eyes. “Let me work in peace while you figure this out. As a family. The way it should have been handled from the beginning.” Ida clenched her lips tight.

Scott called down the stairs for Mark. He came up the stairs and stood talking with Scott, and while Tricia couldn’t hear what they were saying, she got the drift when she heard Mark swearing.

When Mark stomped into the kitchen, a murderous look on his face, Tricia sat down at the table, folded her hands together, and waited for the explosion. She knew it was coming, had known all morning that he would do this—he needed to do this. Mark rarely got upset. He was a carefree guy who let everything slide off his back, unless it involved her or the kids.

“What were you thinking?” Mark clipped his words tight, his fists clenched at his side as he looked from Alyson to Scott and then to her.

Tricia swallowed. “Mark . . .”

“Getting upset isn’t going to do any good.” Tricia rubbed the ache that flared in her wrist while trying to calm her husband down.

“No.” Mark shook his head. “It’s bad enough when your sister reacts without thinking through the consequences, but this went too far.” He turned to Alyson. “Would it have killed you to wait? To trust your sister a little?”

Alyson didn’t say anything.

“All she wanted to do was protect Keera.” Scott held out his hand when he saw Mark was about to argue. “Think about it for a moment, please. If it were one of our girls, would we not want to be told, to know that someone wanted to protect our daughters? Sure, she should have waited, and yes, she didn’t really think about the ramifications of meeting with Rachel, but calm down, man.” Scott’s words were all jumbled as he quickly tried to talk Mark down.

“Calm down?” Mark shook his head and then sat down at the table, across from Tricia.

“It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Mark rubbed his forehead. “Do you have any idea what that mistake is going to cost? Not only us but others? We all know Eddie. We might not like him, but you’re”—he looked at Alyson—“accusing him of being a child molester. Can you live with the guilt of what you’ve done if you’re wrong? You’re going to destroy his life. You’re going to destroy Myah and Keera’s life while you’re at it.”

“What did Rachel say?” Alyson asked quietly.

Tricia waited until everyone, other than her mother, sat down at the table.

“Child Protective Services has to get involved.”

Alyson’s whole body deflated as she nodded, and Tricia hated to see her sister like that—as if she were carrying the weight of her actions on her shoulders.