Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (20 page)

Look up, Michelle. Look up
.

“Thanks, but we’re kinda busy,” she said,
still looking at the scarf in her lap.

“Michelle, I don’t—”

A harsh stare stopped Danica in her tracks.
“Um, yeah, we kind of have plans, sorry,” Danica said to Brad,
whose smile quickly faded. He shot a look from Michelle to his
friends and back again.

“Okay, well, maybe another time then.” He
walked backward toward the door, where his friends were
waiting.

“Who was that?” one girl asked.

“Girl from school. She’s cool,” he said on
their way out the door.

Danica’s heart slammed against her chest with
excitement. Brad liked Michelle. He’d called her cool. Surely
Michelle would be happy.

Michelle didn’t move from her cocoon.

“He seemed nice,” Danica said.

Michelle shrugged.

“Is there something about him that I’m not
seeing?”

Michelle shook her head. “Can we get out of
here? Please?”

Boy, did Danica know that feeling. She
gathered their breakfasts and headed for the door with Michelle in
tow, eyes locked on the floor, scarf clenched within her hands.

They walked in silence toward the art
gallery, where Michelle had said she wanted to go after breakfast.
Brad was nowhere in sight.

“Wanna talk?” Danica asked.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Well, is there something I don’t see? I
mean, Brad seemed nice enough.”

“He is.”

Would she ever understand teenagers
completely? Danica doubted it.

“So? What’s the problem, then? Why not go
with them and have some fun? You love the Village.”

Michelle shoved her scarf in her pocket and
finally lifted her eyes to meet Danica’s. “Because, how long would
it take before one of the others made fun of me? When they asked if
they could come over, and then it'd be all mothballs and
Grandma?”

“Hey, Nola is a pretty great grandma, as far
as grandmothers go.”

Michelle smiled. “Yeah, she is. I don’t mean
that. But their houses probably smell like cookies in the oven, and
their moms are probably all,
Hey, honey, what would you guys
like as snacks?
”

“Is that what you think?”

“Even when my mom was home, she wasn’t home.
She was working, or too tired to move from working too much, or out
with some random guy. I have no idea what normal is, but one thing
I know is that no one is living like I do.” Michelle slumped down
on a bench in front of the museum.

“Michelle, these days more than half of
marriages end in divorce. Chances are, several of those kids are
being raised by one parent, or worse, traipsing from house to house
every week, trying to figure out where they belong. This isn’t the
1950s. I don’t think many moms bake cookies and offer snacks
anymore. More likely, moms are working, and when they’re home, the
kids are on the computer and so are they.” She sat down beside
Michelle and let out a long breath. “My mom was one of those
subservient women. You know, always there, supporting my dad,
making cookies, and I have to tell you something that I haven’t
told anyone else, but I think you need to hear it.”

Michelle looked up with interest.

“My father cheated and left her. My own
sister can’t be happy in a relationship, and we had the perfect
mother. She sees my mother as having been weak, staying all those
years so her kids would be okay.”

“At least she was there.”

“Yes, she was there, but there are all sorts
of ways to be there and end up hurting your children in the long
run.”

“Like drinking yourself into oblivion,”
Michelle said with spite.

“Yes, or like pretending everything is fine
when your children know it’s not. Or like not working enough to
support your kids when the marriage ends.” Wow, she hadn’t even
said those words to Kaylie. What on earth was she doing? Today was
not a normal day in any way. “Or having a spouse leave you and your
kids end up not trusting anyone—or themselves enough—to have a
real, committed relationship.”
Belinda
.
Blake
. “Or
worse, sabotaging every chance they have at happiness.”
Kaylie.
Me? Am I using work as an excuse, even now, while I’m thinking
about giving up my license?

“I guess,” Michelle said, but Danica knew she
wasn’t buying into any of it, even if it was the truth.

“Michelle, you can live your life afraid to
move forward, or you can live your life accepting people for who
they are and believing in those people, giving second chances with
the hopes that the changes they’ve worked hard to achieve remain.
And what they change into might not be your ideal, but it might be
close enough that you’ll be happy.” Danica didn’t wait for
Michelle’s response. “And you don’t have to be who others want you
to be or who they think you are.”
Jesus, am I talking about
myself?
“We talked about that, remember? You can be a secure,
confident teenager whose mother just happened to fall into the
bottle for a bit.”
And I can be a therapist who happened to fall
for a client.
“And the world will not come to an end. In fact,
it just might be better.”

Danica reached over and pulled on the scarf
that was sticking out of Michelle’s pocket, then shook it out, and
wrapped it around Michelle’s neck. She lifted her soft, thick hair,
like the woman in the shop had, and she smiled. “There you are
again. The happy Michelle.”

Michelle grabbed the ends of the scarf. “I do
love it.” She reached into the neckline of her T-shirt and withdrew
the Imperfect necklace. Michelle smiled, rubbing the tin between
her fingers and looking into the distance like she was deep in
thought.

Danica jumped to her feet, feeling revived.
“Where to?”

Michelle reached for the museum door. “Come
with me,” she said, and Danica followed her into the museum,
through the lobby, and toward one of the back rooms.

“Ah, the chaos picture,” Danica said,
watching Michelle smile at the tangled images.

“Yeah, you know what? I think I figured out
why I love it so much.” She stepped closer, her neck craning up at
the painting. “It reminds me of my life. Remember you asked me
that?” She flashed happier eyes at Danica.

Danica nodded.

“Well, I think you were right. All the pieces
are there, but they’re not in order. That’s like my life, isn’t
it?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Danica remembered
the letter from Nancy. She reached into her purse and pulled it
out. “Michelle, please don’t be mad, but I went to visit your mom.
I wanted to see for myself if she was really making progress before
I suggested that you see her.”

Michelle’s eyes went cold. “And?”

“I think she is. She lives in a nice
apartment, and it’s filled with your pictures. She’s got a job and,
well, she asked me to give you this.” She held the envelope out
toward Michelle.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know the specifics.” Danica wanted
to grant Michelle privacy with regard to the contents of the
letter. Whatever her mother had written, she didn’t want to dampen
or enhance the meaning. That was for Michelle to figure out. “She
said she wanted you to have it.”

Michelle turned away.

“I’ll never push you to see your mom, but I
will tell you that everyone makes mistakes, and you two have a
whole lot of years ahead of you. I’d just hate to see you throw
that away. What she’s dealt with is terribly difficult for you, and
I don’t blame you for not knowing if you can trust anything she
says yet.”

A couple walked into the room, and Michelle
covered her face. The couple wandered back out of the room, and a
new trickle of people began to filter in.

“Wanna go?” she asked Michelle.

Michelle shook her head. She took the
envelope from Danica and put it in her pocket, then wiped her eyes
and forced a smile on her lips. “I don’t even know what to think,”
she said in a hushed voice.

“You don’t have to. You’re a kid. Just be
open to forgiveness if or when you feel it’s time.” She took
Michelle’s hand and walked her over to a wooden bench near the
corner of the room. They sat side by side. “Michelle, do you
remember what it was really like for all those years when your mom
was home, or do you think that your memory of her being with random
men and drinking was maybe an exaggeration?”

“Here comes Dr. Snow.” Michelle smirked.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to understand
something that her counselor told me.”

Michelle pursed her lips and looked away.

“Michelle? I won’t judge you,” Danica assured
her.

Michelle crossed her arms. She looked down,
around the room, anywhere but at Danica.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about
this.” Danica let her off the hook.

They walked around the museum for a few more
uncomfortable minutes, and then Michelle asked if she’d take her
home. Danica knew she’d caused a setback.

She pulled up in front of Nola’s house and
apologized to Michelle for prying into her life.

Michelle twisted the ends of her scarf. “I’m
not sure how to tell you what I need to say.”

Oh God. She doesn’t want me to be her Big
Sister anymore. Why didn’t I see this coming?

“I made most of it up. The stuff I said about
my mom not being there, being with random guys and all. I
just…”

“Oh, Michelle. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Michelle looked up, her voice
filled with self-hatred. “I hated her for what she did. I read her
diary the night she was drinking, and I know she drank because of
my father—who she told me was dead, for God’s sake! Dead! She lied
to me.”

Danica was quick to respond and take control.
“She thought it was best, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, for her maybe. She wasn’t out with
random guys. She was never out doing anything other than working,
as far as I knew, but then she drank. She drank herself into
oblivion that night.” Tears spilled from Michelle’s eyes. “It was
just hard to see—my mother splayed out on her bedroom floor, drunk,
totally out of it.”

Danica reached for her, and Michelle pushed
her away.

“Don’t you see? I’m a terrible person. I
called her all sorts of names and cursed at her and told her she
was worthless as a mother. And the next day, she was gone—in rehab,
and I was here with Grandma.”

“It was your mother’s decision to go into
rehab, and I’d imagine, from what I know about your family history,
that one night scared her and Nola enough to take it seriously.
Alcoholism can be a slippery slope. That’s a terrible burden for
you to carry, Michelle, but you might have saved her life.”

“No, I didn’t. I ruined her life. If I hadn’t
made a big deal of it, she wouldn’t have gone into rehab and lost
her job; she wouldn’t be known as the mom who was an alcoholic. I
caused it all. I should have let her have her drunken fit and
ignored it, but I couldn’t see past my anger because she’d lied to
me.” Michelle sobbed. “I’m sure you hate me now, and I’ll
understand if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

Danica pulled her close this time, not
letting Michelle push out of her embrace. “Not see you? You’re like
family now. You’re stuck with me.” She hugged her close; then
Michelle sank back into the safety of the passenger seat. “I do
have one question. Tell me about the first time your mom went to
rehab.”

“I was little. I don’t really remember what
happened. I just know I had to stay with Grandma. And I think I
used that against her when I found out she’d lied to me about my
dad. You should have seen her face when I said she was nothing but
a lousy drunk.” Michelle’s shoulders shook as she sobbed into her
hands. “God, I’m so awful.”

“No, you were hurt. But why would your mom go
into rehab if she didn’t have a problem?”

Michelle lifted her pink, puffy face from her
hands. “To get away from me.”

“Oh, Michelle, you know that’s not true.”

“I called Grandma, and they argued. I think
Grandma made her go, because of what Grandpa was like or something.
I don’t know.”

“What about what the kids at school say about
you? Is that true?”

Michelle shrugged.

So, Michelle is transferring her feelings
about herself onto everyone else. Great
. Danica had to wonder
if she was doing the same thing. Did she expect people to judge her
for dating Blake, or would they really? Who knew he was her client?
Could she be using that as an excuse to distance herself from him?
She couldn’t explore that now. She had to make sure Michelle was
okay.

“What do I do now?” Michelle asked. “I know I
shouldn’t say it, but I still hate her for lying to me.”

“Did you ask her about your father and give
her a chance to explain?”

Michelle shook her head. “I read her diary.
That was wrong, and I knew it, but I did it anyway. She’ll hate
me
.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. Only you can
make that decision. But sometimes coming clean is the only way to
move forward.”
Coming clean.
“Holding in feelings can only
stagnate you.” She reached over and used her index finger to lift
Michelle’s face so she had to look at her. “What you did was not
terrible. Every child reads their parent’s diary at some point—when
they’re living, after they die, out of curiosity. You’re not alone
in this. Your mom loves you. Let her try to explain; then you can
decide whether her reasons are worth hating her forever or not.
Maybe they are, maybe not. Who knows?” Danica shrugged.

Michelle nodded, wiped her eyes. “I think
you’re a really good therapist.”

I’m not so sure anymore
. “I’m not your
therapist,” Danica said with a smile.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just sayin’.”

Blake spent Sunday at AcroSki, weeding
through the mounds of files that Dave had kept track of and trying
to figure out what had gone wrong with Danica. He’d thought she
would fall into his arms, given the chance. All the signals were
there. He’d never felt about any other woman the way he felt about
her, and he was sure he read the same message in her eyes. Could he
have been that wrong? Had he lost his touch? Damn it. He didn’t
want to think that way anymore. It wasn’t about
his touch
.
It was about who he was. She liked him—that was pretty clear—and he
liked her. But she wasn’t like any other woman. Danica was smart,
savvy, and she’d sooner disappear than tie herself up with a guy
who played around—a guy like him.
Damn it, Danica!
She’d
fucked with his mind and now with his body. Ever since that
kiss—that hot, sensual kiss—just thinking about her brought an
erection. But he also needed her. Desperately.