Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (17 page)

She faced him, her wavy, blond hair tucked
beneath a red, knit hat. Her brown eyes were painfully small. She
wore red lipstick that matched the bright shade of her hat, and her
long, gray, fitted coat hung almost to her knees. She looked like
one of those little porcelain dolls that had their makeup painted
on. She crossed her hands over her chest, warding off the wind.
“Yes. You’re Blake, right?”

Surprised, he said, “Mm-hmm. Do I know
you?”

She turned away again. “No, I suppose you
wouldn’t.” She thrust her hands in her pockets.

Blake glanced at her out of the corner of his
eye. She was a petite woman, no taller than his chest. “How did you
know Dave?” he asked.

She kicked her rubber boot at a mound of
wayward dirt. “We helped each other with things.”

“Things?” He was digging himself deeper into
a hole he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in, but he needed to
understand what went on between them, and why Dave would ruin his
family for this woman.

“I knew Dave when we were teenagers, and we
hadn’t seen each other for years, until I moved back here. Back
home. We were…friends.”

Blake felt the heat of anger despite the
brisk air. He turned and faced her. “Friends?”
You’re not
getting off that easy
. “How is it that you know who I am, but I
have no idea who you are?”

“You’re Dave’s business partner,” she said,
making no effort to avoid his confrontational gaze. “Dave told me
all about you.” She looked up at the sky, as if searching for an
answer. “Dave and I were…he was…I have a seventeen-year-old son.”
She looked into Blake’s eyes, and he saw the answer.

“Dave’s son?” Blake felt as if he’d been
kicked in the gut.
Sally. Rusty. Oh God
.

She nodded. Her hair fell into her eyes and
she left it there. She spoke softly, her words trembling in the
cold. “We were so young. He didn’t know about Chase. He was trying
to do the right thing, getting to know him, spending time with
him.”

“Sleeping with you,” Blake accused.

“No.” She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like
that. He was just trying to figure out what to do, how to tell his
wife.” She wiped her eyes with her gloved fingertips. “He loved
her, and while he was spending time with Chase, he wasn’t going to
leave her for me; it wasn’t like that.”

“But Sally knows about you two. She said
she—”

She shook her head, revealing her honest
eyes. “He tried to tell her about Chase, and she assumed there was
more to it.”

“But he let her believe it. She’s heartbroken
and falling apart more with each day because she thinks he was
having an affair.”

“He was, sort of, but not with me.
Emotionally, I guess he was…dividing his time. He was spending time
getting to know Chase. He wanted to wait until they were on solid
ground before bringing Sally and Rusty to meet him. There was a lot
to deal with.”

“Why now? Why did you come back after so many
years?” Blake’s rage mounted. “You needed money, wanted a
husband?”

“No,” she said adamantly. “I came back
because my father died and I needed to take care of his affairs. I
saw Dave at the store, and we started talking. He did the math. I
never even brought it up. It wasn’t my plan for him and Chase to
meet—ever. It just happened.”

Blake turned around and pulled his shoulders
up against the wind, then turned back to her, spewing his anger
without restraint. “Do you understand what his wife is going
through? He must have spent loads of time with you—or with Chase—at
his family’s expense, and now they’re left believing he didn’t love
them.”

“He was trying to do the right thing.” Tears
fell from her eyes.

“Yeah, well, he’s dead, and a lot of people
are hurting. What now?” Blake had to get to Sally; he had to
explain what was going on. Would she even care? Dave had stolen
their family time and they’d never get that back.

“I don’t know, okay? I have my own son to
worry about. He only just got to know his father, and now he’s
gone.”

Blake had enough of his own shit to deal
with. The last thing he needed was someone else’s mess on his
plate. Now, more than ever, he wondered if Dave had purposely
missed the angle of the jump, sending himself tumbling to his
death. As he walked back to his car, he mulled over the
possibilities and wondered if Dave had felt pulled too far under
the weight of his own life’s complexities to ever find his way out
again. Blake couldn’t imagine that the love Dave showed toward
Sally had been feigned. Maybe the possibility of losing her was
just too much for him to take.

He unlocked his car, wondering if the woman
had been telling the truth, or if Dave had been having an affair
with her. Then he realized that it didn’t really matter. What he’d
given her was his time and emotional energy—the thing that Sally
and Rusty had needed most.

He stopped at a red light on the way to his
shop. There he was, at the corner of the street that ran straight
to his shop and the one that led in the direction of Sally’s house.
When the light changed, he continued on toward AcroSki.

Danica sat in Nancy’s apartment, watching her
move nervously from the living room to the kitchen, returning with
a plate of cheese and crackers and a pitcher of ice water. There
was little furniture in the living room—a worn, green couch with a
dark blue throw across the back cushions, a coffee table, and a
scratched, wooden shelving unit that looked like it had seen better
days. Gracing each shelf were photographs of Michelle, from infancy
to her current school picture, which Danica recognized as the same
photograph that Nola had framed and placed on her piano. There were
no stacks of clutter, no bills piling up that she could see. The
apartment was small and tidy, with the kitchen just off of the
living room. Danica peered in and took note of the cleanliness,
dishes drying neatly on a rubber drying rack. It was easy for
Danica to envision Nancy curled up on the couch with a cup of black
tea, wondering what her daughter was doing at that moment.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have something more
to offer you, but you know, no sugar and all that. Something about
sugar increasing the desire for alcohol.”

Danica had seen pictures of Nancy, but she
hadn’t realized how much Michelle looked like her until she was
sitting beside her. They had the same oval chin, the same slender
fingers, and the same nervous way of hiding behind their hair.
“This is just fine.” Danica reached for a glass and filled it with
ice water.

Nancy couldn’t have been much older than her
mid-thirties, but worry had etched deep lines across her forehead.
“I really appreciate all you’re doing for Michelle,” she said
sheepishly.

“Michelle is a really good kid. You should be
proud of her.”

“Oh, I am proud of her. I’m more proud of her
than I’ve ever been of anyone in my life. My mother, too. To pick
up the pieces like she does. I know it’s not easy for either of
them.”

You’ve got that right
. “That’s kind of
why I’m here. I know it’s none of my business, but how are you
doing with your recovery?”

“You have every right to ask,” she said.
“I’ve got myself a job waitressing at the Friday’s in town. I don’t
serve alcohol. I go to all of my meetings, and this time I haven’t
felt the desire to go back to drinking. Not once.” She looked up
with a tentative smile.

“That’s great, Nancy. I’m sure it’s been a
very difficult time for you.” Danica realized that no matter what
Nancy told her, she couldn’t know what to believe. Recovery wasn’t
a clearly defined path, and rebound was likely for most recovering
alcoholics. No matter how much Nancy wanted to change, there was
always the quiet presence of the addiction on her shoulders. No
wonder Michelle was reluctant to let her mother back into her life.
She could lose her mother again at any moment.

“It is. Don’t get me wrong.” She sat back
against the couch cushions and blinked several times, as if she
were trying to hold back tears. “Michelle is everything to me. I
got lost for a while there, running with the wrong crowd, feeling
put upon for having to care for a child alone. I don’t know.” She
crossed her legs. “I don’t mean to rationalize any of what I’ve
done. It was all a way to hide, I guess. In a way, I was running
away from my responsibilities, I suppose. But this time, things
were different. I wasn’t sitting there feeling put upon or angry at
the world for whatever I used to feel. This time, all I could think
about was how lucky I am to have Michelle and how much I’ve let her
down. She sees me for what I was, for what I am, and I’m dead set
on fixing that. There’s no going back for me. I’ll never make her
feel that way again, if I can help it.”

“Are you getting help beyond the support
groups?” Danica knew from Nola that she was attending weekly
support meetings.

Nancy nodded vehemently. “Oh, yes. I see a
counselor, Dr. Paltron, every week, and I’ve even asked her to give
me random urine tests.” She scribbled a phone number on a piece of
paper and handed it to Danica. “Call Dr. Paltron, please. She can
tell you how I’m doing. I have nothing to hide.”

Danica took the paper. “You asked her to test
you?”

“Yes. I don’t want to slip back into that
life, and with that hanging over my head, well, it’s a
reminder.”

Danica was impressed. In her experience,
addicts were always on the edge of falling back into the throes of
their addiction. Nancy’s case was slightly different. She hadn’t
spent her whole life moving in and out of rehab. She’d had a hard
time dealing with the death of Michelle’s father, a drug addict who
had never been a part of Michelle’s life, but whom she had remained
desperately in love with.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nancy said.
“What about when that’s not enough, the threat of a urine test? But
the truth is, I know in my heart that this is it. I’m not going
back to that life. I’m ashamed of the pain I’ve caused Michelle.” A
tear slipped down her cheek. “I will make this work. I will not
allow myself to screw up again. That girl needs me, faults and all.
She needs her mother.”

“Well, everyone needs their parents, but
Michelle is in a really stressful period in her life. Being a
teenager is not an easy time for anyone.”

“I know. This whole mess was wrapped around
her father dying. Michelle didn’t know him, but I loved him. I was
sucked into his life once—the first time I went into rehab—but I
was not going to be sucked in again. I didn’t realize that his
death could push me over the edge. It was my fault. I let myself
hide in the fog of alcohol, in a place where I should have been too
numb to feel. But I wasn’t too numb to feel. I was hurt and lonely,
and now I'm ashamed.” She moved to the edge of the couch. “I still
felt the pain of his loss. I couldn’t hide from it. Now I’ve
accepted it and I’m able to move forward.” She must have seen
something in Danica’s eyes, because she added, “Michelle is
everything to me. I
will
move forward. I will make that girl
proud, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Danica had heard the same thing before from
her clients. Some meant it; some didn’t. She believed, from the
pitch of Nancy’s voice and the desperation and confidence
intertwined in her eyes, that she meant it—at least at that very
moment. But it was Michelle she was worried about. “It’s not me you
have to convince. Michelle’s not sure what she can trust. She’s
seen you at your worst, so it may take her some time to trust you
again.”

Nancy nodded, wiped her tears with her
sleeve. “I know that, and I’ll wait as long as it takes.” Nancy
lifted her eyes to Danica’s. “From what my mother has told me,
you’re really helping Michelle deal with things. Can you tell me
how she’s doing? Is she into anything…bad? Have I screwed her up in
that way?”

Danica thought of Michelle in the museum,
thoughtfully looking over the artwork, and the way she came into
her own in the Village. “I think she’s doing just fine, but she’s
struggling with her relationship with you and whether she’ll ever
live the life of a typical mother and daughter.”

“Well, we’re anything but typical,” Nancy
admitted.

An alarm sounded in another room. “I’m
sorry,” she said, walking toward the offending noise. “I have to
get ready for work.” She came back from the bedroom with an
envelope in her hand. “Would you mind giving this to Michelle?”

“Um...” Danica worried what the envelope
might contain. Last wishes? Hopes for the future? She looked at the
envelope without reaching for it.

Nancy shrugged. “It’s just, she won’t talk to
me, and I miss her so much, so I started writing her letters. Then
I realized that a teenage girl probably doesn’t want a string of
sappy letters, so I wrote just this one, told her how I felt, that
I’m sorry, and, well, some other stuff I thought she needed to
know. I want her to know I’m doing everything I can and I will
remain sober. She needs to know this.”

Danica felt a rush of relief. “Sure, I’ll
give it to her next week.” She took the envelope.

Danica left Nancy’s apartment and headed for
her office. She checked her watch, and knowing she had no more
clients that afternoon, she picked up her cell phone and dialed
Kaylie’s number.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Kaylie
joked.

“Do you have a dress for the party this
weekend? Because I don’t.” She listened to Kaylie squeal with
excitement on the other end of the phone line. “I’m thinking that I
need something that’s more like the new me, less…”

“Frigid?” Kaylie offered.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but something like
that. Meet me in the Village?”

“I only have an hour. I’m singing tonight at
the Mantra.” The Mantra was the restaurant that kept Kaylie’s bills
paid. Danica had seen her sing only three times. Watching the old
men eye her younger sister always turned her stomach.