Where the Heart Is, page 6
“Jesus,” I said, clasping a hand over my heart. “Are you trying to kill me?”
She giggled. “Hi.”
“Hi. When did you get in here?”
“I saw you going down the hall, so I followed you in.”
I settled back to a seat on the floor in front of her, pulling out my phone. “Aren’t your parents wondering where you are?”
She fussed with her fingers at her waist, swaying from side to side. “Daddy went to the bathroom and he told me to stay put. But he was taking a while, and I heard someone coming, and I looked and I saw it was you, so I went to say hi.”
“I see. Doesn’t sound like you stayed put.” I searched my contacts for Philip Jackson, sending him a text. Clarissa just snuck off to my room. She’s fine, just letting you know.
Clarissa giggled, zero conception that she’d done anything wrong. “No… is that naughty?”
“Just a little bit.” I slipped my phone away. Clarissa gave me puppy-dog eyes.
“How much do I have to be nice to make up for it?”
“Oh, you are playing this game. You’ll have to ask your daddy.”
She pouted. “You should get married to Stella. Then I can just go see my sister instead.”
I looked out the window. “Well, today’s day and age being what it is, people typically get to choose who they can marry.”
Out came the puppy-dog eyes again. “But you love her, right?”
Well, that was a hell of a question. “There are a lot of different kinds of love,” I said, which wasn’t really an answer. “Are you liking Bellsford, Clarissa?”
“Mm-hm. I get to see Grandpa Ron and Grandma Enid and Auntie Georgia and all my other family. And I get to see you.” She pouted. “Stella’s happier when you’re here. You shouldn’t be away for so long. She misses you.”
Leave it to a kid to punch me right in the gut without even meaning to… I smiled. “You really love Stella, don’t you?”
She nodded, lighting up. “Mm-hm! She’s really nice to me. We have fun every time she visits. You really love her, too, right?”
“Uh, well, yeah.” I scratched my head, looking away. “You know, we go way back.”
“Go way back where?”
“Uh—figure of speech. Means we’ve known each other for a long time.” I laughed. “You know? We weren’t much older than you are when we met.”
“Really?”
“Yep. We were eight.”
Her face fell. “Oh, that’s much older than me…”
I guess to a six-year-old, eight and six were different universes. Still, she lit up again.
“Did you meet at school?”
“After-school stuff. We were in a little music activity together, and the first session we had together, she whacked me in the face with a trumpet.”
Clarissa looked mortified, jaw dropping. I laughed.
“It was an accident. I still had the scar for a while. She was so embarrassed, apologized a million times, apologized to me, apologized to my parents, apologized to her parents… she got your mom to help her bake a cupcake to bring in the next day to apologize.”
She lit up. “And it made things better?”
“It made me sick. I’m lactose intolerant.”
Her face fell. I laughed.
“She brought in an entire lactose-free cake for me the next day, just about tripping over herself trying to make it up to me. I couldn’t eat that much cake, though, so we shared it with the studio, including the teacher. She stuck around for a while I think just out of guilt, and we ended up friends.”
An anxious, rapid knocking came from the door, and I checked my phone. Sure enough, the message to Philip had been marked as read. “Think that’s your dad,” I said before I raised my voice. “It’s unlocked!”
The handle turned, and the door swung open to where Philip Jackson, Stella’s dad, a tall and kind of reedy man with blond hair, came rushing in red-faced and put a hand on Clarissa’s shoulder.
“Clarissa—”
“She was just seeing me,” I said, putting a hand up. “Saw me in the hall and followed me. She was with me the whole time.”
Clarissa looked down at the floor. Between me arguing her case and the sad-puppy look, Philip softened, kneeling down in front of her, and he put his arms out for a hug.
“You scared the bejeezus out of me, kid,” he said, sounding like he’d just run a mile instead of three rooms’ length. “Tell me next time you’re going to do that. I’d have let you if you’d just said you were going with Abigail.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” She hugged him, and he patted her back.
“There, there. It’s all right. You weren’t bothering Abigail, were you?”
“No!” Clarissa squeezed him tighter before she stepped back. “We were talking about Abigail and Stella getting married.”
This kid needed to just run me through already. I made a sound I couldn’t describe, and I covered it by clearing my throat loudly, putting a hand to my forehead. “She wants me to be her sister,” I said, just a little too loudly. Philip looked between us with a confused smile.
“I don’t think—” he started, but Clarissa shook her head, folding her arms.
“Abigail loves her! She told me so herself.”
“I said there are a lot of different types of love,” I said, measuring out my words carefully, wishing someone would break in and snap my neck. Philip laughed awkwardly, putting a hand on Clarissa’s shoulder.
“See, honey, typically girls marry boys instead of other girls…”
Clarissa scowled. “I know girls can marry girls.”
“Well, they can, but—well—most of them don’t. I think Abigail and Stella are both straight.”
I checked my phone, praying someone would send me an urgent message. Nobody did. Clarissa whirled on me.
“Abigail, are you straight?”
I hung my head. “Hey, Clarissa, if you want me to be your sister, we can just say we’re sisters. We’re basically there already.”
Clarissa pouted. “That’s not the same…”
Philip took her hand, tugging her towards the door. “C’mon, honey. Let’s give Abigail her space. Sorry for letting her chase you around the place, Abigail.”
I stood up, brushing myself off. “I like talking to Clarissa. She’s like a little sister to me.”
Philip gave me an awkward smile. “For the record, you’re like a daughter to me, too. Whether you do marry Stella or not.”
“Uh—thank you…?” I blinked fast. He sounded just a tiny little bit too serious, but I didn’t get the time to consider it any further before Clarissa tugged on his hand.
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
“Okay, sweetie. Let’s meet up with Georgia and Tanner and we’ll see about getting some lunch, okay?”
“Tanner’s scary…” But she left the room with him, leaving me in the quiet of the room alone, where I collapsed on the edge of the bed.
This whole thing was one big cosmic joke. Not that marrying Stella sounded like a punishment exactly…
My stomach grumbled. I probably needed to attend to my own lunch, too. The less I thought about everything right now, the better.
Chapter 7
Stella
I woke up to the sound of chatter from the hallway, footsteps creaking over the floorboards, and I blinked against the soft light coming in through the crack in the curtains before I realized where I was.
I must have really been wiped out yesterday… the clock read seven fifteen. For better or worse, I almost never slept past seven. What was more on my mind, though, was the fact that Abigail was nestled against me, tucked under my arm, her back pressed against my front, breathing softly, and suddenly I didn’t want to get up or go anywhere. Everyone else could wait.
Her hair tickled my nose a little. I’d forgotten the way it had always done that when we’d woken up together. Same for how she was so warm… a blazing fire against my front, impossibly pleasant against the cold in the air and on my bare legs under the blankets. The other night, she’d slept so far away from me I thought she’d fall off the bed, and last night she did the same, hugging her edge of the bed like she wanted to get a face full of rug in the night. I wasn’t sure at what point in the night she’d moved, but… I liked this better.
She felt so small, soft, precious in my arms like this. I nuzzled my face into the back of her head, just… feeling her there close to me. Dreading her waking up and moving away from me again. If it was just about a breakup, why had she been avoiding me? It had gotten better after she’d told me about it, but she still seemed so nervous around me, so shy…
I didn’t know what her ex did to hurt her like this, beyond just breaking up with her right as she was leaving, but I couldn’t believe the guy’s nerve. Let alone letting go of a girl like her. Was he high?
Maybe I could have just married her myself. We’d always joked about it when we were younger, and it had never really sounded that bad… and we all knew Clarissa would be over the moon.
Still, like everything else, the magical little bubble of the moment burst, and Abigail stirred, turning her head and blinking fast at the sight of me. “Stella…?”
“Anyone else you’re expecting here?”
She looked down at the two of us pressed together in bed and back at me, eyes wide. “Uh,” she started, her voice much more awake now. “Did I… uh… sorry. Didn’t mean to creep into your space.”
She moved to climb away, but I was feeling petulant. I grabbed her by the side of her shirt, pulling her back into me, and she made a gentle noise as she relented, hunching her shoulders.
“Don’t just abandon me in the cold,” I mumbled into her shoulder. “You’re so warm…”
“I mean, if you wore pants, you’d be warmer…”
“Jeez, woman, what do you have against my legs?”
“Nothing!”
“I mean, aside from your legs.” I hooked my leg over hers, and she made a sound a little bit like a dying rodent. I paused. “Uh… did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Great.” I squeezed her tighter into me. I could feel her heart beating faster against me… was she that nervous about us? Was I that scary?
Still, I let myself enjoy the moment, holding her tight into me, feeling my breathing synchronize with hers. She smelled so familiar, sort of… crisp, clean, like fresh snow. It was such a comfortable feeling.
A knock at the door ruined the moment, and I let go, sitting up as Abigail—the only one of us dressed decently—stood up a little too quickly, tripping over her feet on the two steps to the door, opening it just a crack.
“Oh, Abigail.” Mom’s voice drifted through the crack. “Is Stella in there? Is she okay?”
I leaned to look through the crack in the door. “Hey, Mom. Just really tired last night, I guess… I just woke up.”
Abigail relaxed a little. “You can probably blame me. I invaded her personal space while she slept. Probably didn’t get good sleep.”
“I got fantastic sleep, actually,” I said. “I need to have you here more often.”
Abigail cleared her throat. Mom spoke through the crack.
“Your grandpa Ron wants us all downstairs for some family time…” She could not have sounded less thrilled about it. I slumped back against the pillows.
“I’ll throw on some pants and be right down.”
“Of course, you’re invited, too, Abby,” Mom said, and Abigail visibly recoiled.
“Oh my god. Not if you call me Abby. I’m not ten anymore.”
Mom laughed. “Whatever you say, big grown-up Miss Lancer. Either way, you’re a part of the family. Try to be down in fifteen minutes.”
“Will do.” Abigail shut the door, and I rolled over to look at her.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
Abigail turned to me, hands on her hips, giving me a dry smile. “Don’t want me there?”
I beamed. “Of course I want my little Abby there.”
“Hey. I’ll start throwing stuff.” She laughed, coming over and giving me a playful shove. “Get your pants on and let’s go.”
“All right, all right.” I flung the blankets off, and Abigail had a moment, stopping and blinking before she looked away. I paused, eyes narrowing until I was giving her a searching smile. “Abigail… are you shy about seeing bare legs now?”
“Uh, just—you know, haven’t been around a lot of pantsless people lately.” She wouldn’t even look at me now, turning back to the dresser and fussing through it for nothing. I sat up, swiveling my legs off the edge of the bed.
“Well, isn’t that new. Spunky tough-girl Abigail is scandalized by the sight of a girl’s legs.”
“It’s not that…”
“You’ve seen me butt-naked before.”
“Yeah, I know.” She hunched her shoulders, and I laughed.
“Oh my god, you are shy about it. Do you need me to start wearing pants to bed? Am I too scandalous like this?”
“It’s… really fine,” she mumbled, looking like she’d shrink into herself and vanish. “You can wear whatever you like.”
“Oh, yeah? So if it starts getting a little warm and I lose the top too—”
“You really don’t need to do that,” she said, entirely too quickly. I snorted, standing up.
“Pearl-clutching Abigail. Never thought I’d see the day. Fine, I’ll keep my boobs put away. Now, outta my way, I need to grab pants.”
Poor Abigail wouldn’t even look at me the rest of the time getting ready, throwing on basic clothes and washing my face, putting on some simple makeup and heading out the door. The lobby was packed full and bustling right now, Grandpa there in his checkered shirt and suspenders looking like he’d just walked in out of a Cracker Barrel advert, ushering people into a group pose on the couch in the light of the fireplace, and Mom smiled tiredly at us.
“Stella, Abigail. Why don’t you sit between me and Dad—”
Grandpa waved her off. “Really, Julia. That’s enough. You don’t need to complain about sitting next to your own husband. Stella and Abigail will go over with Faith. Tanner and Spencer, you stand behind them, behind the couch.”
Poor Mom. Poor Dad, too. They sat together with plasticky smiles close to the center of the couch, Dad putting an arm over her shoulders with all the natural grace of an animatronic figure. Mom shied away, like he was poison, and Grandpa muttered something to her while he put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back up next to Dad. Clarissa, sitting on Dad’s lap, just smiled for the camera like a serene angel, oblivious to the whole scenario, while I led Abigail off to the corner, next to where Faith looked like she’d rather die than be next to our goody-two-shoes, Ivy League varsity-hockey cousin Tanner. Not being able to stand Tanner was one of maybe three things Faith and I had in common, so I did her a favor and interposed myself and Abigail between her and Tanner, and she just had to scowl about being next to her lousy sister instead.
I wonder if it was supposed to be a relief that Mom and Dad weren’t the only ones. They made snarky comments at each other in between taking pictures, and I heard Uncle John whispering something sour about them to his wife Samantha. Grandma rolled her eyes about three dozen times, even though she wasn’t doing anything—just exasperated with all of us. Our cousin Nicky sitting too close to Faith led to an argument between the two of them that Aunt Georgia had to get involved in, and Tanner trying to hey-we’re-all-friends-here the situation just pissed off Faith worse, but through it all, every time Grandpa got ready to take a picture, everyone smiled and pretended to be happy.
Well, except Clarissa. She seemed the only one to just be having fun genuinely, none the wiser to everything bubbling around her.
Faith stormed out before the last pictures were done, and Grandpa threw his hands up, giving up on her. Once the pictures were done, Abigail gestured to me with Faith’s scarf.
“I’m taking this up to her room. I think I’m the one she hates the least right now.”
“Will do. Tell her I said sorry for stepping on her toes.”
Dad pulled me aside, out onto the front porch and away from it all, looking like he was ready to pull his hair out. Still, he smiled tiredly at me, the dark rings under his eyes lit by the soft glow of muted sunlight through the clouds as flurries drifted down past the covered porch.
“Thanks for being cooperative with all of that,” he said.
“No problem. I think I’m generally not on anybody’s list, at least not for now.”
He hung his head. “Just wait. It’ll get you eventually.”
I shifted uncomfortably. He looked away, leaning on where the railing was wrapped in garland and tinsel, powdered with snow.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be putting that on you.”
“Sorry it’s all a lot…”
He shrugged. I couldn’t remember many times I’d seen the man look more awkward—he never really had genuine conversations with us, but I had to give him credit that he’d been… trying, lately. Still, admitting to how he was feeling clearly wasn’t his favorite.
He forced himself to perk up, clapping me on the arm. “So, up for a big shopping expedition? Abigail coming with?”
“Yeah, she’s up for it. She’s been really ready to go along with everything… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she just wanted to clock out of everything after just getting back from Scotland.”
He nodded. There was something else on his mind, and I’d never have thought in my life to ask Dad so what’s eating you, but… maybe things were different these days.
“Something up?” I said, and he looked as uncomfortable as I felt, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Nothing. Just happy Abigail is back seeing us all again.”
