Carly's Gift (14 page)

Andrea transferred her
carry-on bag from one hand to the other while she stood next to her mother in the airport terminal and waited for her father and brothers to park the car. She'd told them that she didn't want a big deal made out of her leaving, but they'd all come to see her off anyway—all except her grandfather Wally, who had a deputy sick and had to stay in Baxter to cover for him.

When David returned from his week in Jamaica and discovered none of the paperwork had been completed that was needed to take Andrea to live with him in England, he'd been forced to admit that the process couldn't be rushed, and had reluctantly left for home without her. He'd offered to fly over to accompany her back as soon as everything was ready, but Andrea had refused to let him, saying it was unnecessary. After all, she wasn't a little kid who was going to get lost changing planes.

It was a day of firsts—first time she'd flown, first time she'd been away from home, first time she couldn't think of anything to say to her mother. Carly kept trying to start a conversation, but it was things like, Are you sure you packed your boots, Do you want something to read on the plane, Isn't the fresh snow pretty on the bare tree branches, when it was obvious what she really wanted to ask was, Why are you leaving your family and friends to live with strangers, and, Isn't there some way I can talk you out of going?

Maybe her mom had run out of ways to ask the same questions. Or maybe she'd just gotten tired of Andrea telling her how much she hated living with people who lied to her and how much she was looking forward to being with her real father.

In Andrea's room at night, when the house was quiet and she could hear every tick of the clock downstairs, she would think about her decision to leave home to live with a man she hardly knew and a woman she didn't know at all. She'd get so scared her heart would beat as if it were going to come right out of her chest. Then she'd think about how hard everyone was making it for her to change her mind and it would hurt so much she'd force herself to get mad so she wouldn't cry.

It was almost as if her friends actually wanted her to go, the way they kept telling her how neat England was and how much fun she was going to have. Even though her dad always said something about her trip just being a visit and how she shouldn't feel bad if she didn't like it over there and wanted to come home, he seemed excited that she was going, not sad. Shawn and Eric avoided her and didn't say much of anything until one day she just asked them right out if they thought she should go. That was when she discovered they weren't upset about her leaving, they were mad at her because she was acting as though David were a better father than the one she already had.

It seemed as if everyone wanted her to go but her mom. Not once had she said it was all right for Andrea to leave. She'd even tried laying on a guilt trip, saying how much Andrea was hurting her father by turning her back on him and how upset Shawn and Eric were that she was leaving. But Andrea didn't believe that any more than she believed her mother had told all those lies to protect her. Her mom just didn't want everyone to know that she'd been sleeping around and got caught.

And what did that make her, Andrea wondered? A mistake? Someone who had to be swept under the rug and lied about? Did you call girls bastards or just boys?

She'd never forgive her mother—not in a million years.

“Andrea? Are you all right?” Carly said, breaking the silence between them.

“Of course,” Andrea told her. “Why shouldn't I be?”

“You looked so lost.”

“You always say stuff like that. Anybody else would have said I looked like I was daydreaming.” After a while, she added, “I was just thinking.”

Carly tried to put her arm around her daughter, but Andrea moved away. “About what?”

“How neat it's going to be to spend Christmas in England,” she said, knowing it would hurt her mother. Strangely, she felt none of the anticipated satisfaction when she saw that she'd succeeded.

Carly glanced over her shoulder in the direction Barbara had gone to find a restroom. “Christmas dinner won't be the same without you.”

“Of course not. With me gone, you'll have to clean up the kitchen all by yourself.”

Carly let out a weary sigh. “You've gotten what you want, Andrea. Can't we call a truce?”

Andrea was instantly, wildly angry. How dare her mother say she'd gotten what she wanted? None of this was Andrea's doing. She wasn't the one who'd slept with one man, married another, and then lied to the entire world about who had fathered her baby.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Andrea said so loudly a man passing close by paused to see if she'd been talking to him. She lowered her voice. “You've ruined my life and you expect me to—”

Carly grabbed Andrea's arm and pulled her out of the flow of traffic. “I've heard as much as I'm going to about how I ruined your life,” she said. “I don't expect you to appreciate what I went through—what I gave up to keep you—but it's about time you realized I did have a choice.
I could have had an abortion.
”

Andrea felt the blood drain from her face. “Why didn't you?”

“Because you were mine and I wasn't going to let anyone or anything take you from me.”

Before Andrea could answer, Barbara came up to them. “I saw Andrea's flight on the monitor,” she said. “Don't you think we should get her checked in?”

Andrea maneuvered her arm out of her mother's grasp. “Dad isn't here yet,” she said, glad for her grandmother's presence. She was confused and scared and wished with all her heart that she could wake up from the nightmare she'd been living.

“Here he comes,” Barbara said.

Ethan stopped beside Carly, put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting hug. “All ready?” he said to Andrea.

She nodded and looked at Shawn. “I left something for you on my bed.”

“What is it?” he asked. They were the first words he'd spoken since leaving the house.

“You'll see,” she told him, forcing a smile. She turned to Eric. “Since you'll be getting my room, I didn't leave you anything extra, but there's a present for you under the tree.”

“I don't want your room,” he said.

“Why not? It's a lot bigger than yours.”

“I don't care.”

“We're leaving it just the way it is,” Carly said. “For when you come home again.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she was never coming back, but the words wouldn't come out. Her grandmother Barbara had told her that when doors were closed too tightly, sometimes they were impossible to open again. What would she do—where would she go—if David decided he didn't like having his daughter around after all?

“It's time to go,” Carly said, her voice flat.

Andrea dropped her carry-on bag and hugged everyone in turn. Everyone except her mother. Carly had received permission to accompany Andrea past the passenger-only point to make sure she got off all right. They went through the baggage X-ray and then down a long corridor until they found Andrea's departure gate.

As if weary of the effort it took to try to talk to her daughter, Carly remained quiet while they waited for the passengers to start boarding.

Finally, Andrea's row number was called. Her heart felt as if it were in her throat. She looked at her mother and saw that there were tears in her eyes. “Say good-bye to Muffin for me,” she said, unable to turn her back and leave without saying something.

“I will,” Carly told her.

“Remind Shawn and Eric to email or text. They'll forget if you don't.”

“I will.”

She took her ticket out of her backpack just in case she needed it when she got on the plane. “And Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa, too.”

“They won't need me to remind them,” Carly said gently.

“Well, I guess I'd better be going.”

Carly caught Andrea's sleeve. “I love you,” she said.

Andrea twisted free. Fighting tears, she said, “If you really loved me, you would have found a way to keep me here.”

Twelve

It was almost
noon when Ethan pulled into the driveway at home after dropping Barbara off at her house. “You're not going to make us go to school, are you?” Eric asked.

Ethan twisted around in the seat to look at him. “What'd you have in mind?”

“I was thinking we could take in a movie.”

“Maybe you should try for something a little less conspicuous,” Carly said. “I'd just as soon it didn't get back to your teachers that you were out fooling around when you should have been in school.”

“We could drive over to Linndale,” Shawn suggested. “I like their theater better anyway.”

Ethan looked at Carly. “What do you think?”

“It would probably do the three of you good to get away. The house is going to seem pretty empty for a while.”

“You're not coming?”

She shook her head. “I think I'd like some time alone, if you don't mind.”

Ethan put his hand over hers where it lay on the seat between them. “She's going to be all right, Carly. David will take good care of her.”

She tried to smile, but it was a wasted effort. “I'm just tired,” she said. “It's been a long day and it's not even half over yet.”

Shawn got out and opened Carly's door for her. “She shouldn't have gone,” he said softly when Carly was standing beside him.

“No, she shouldn't,” Carly said as softly. “But there was no talking her out of it.”

“How could she stop loving us so fast?” he asked, dropping his chin to his chest and staring at the ground.

Carly put her arms around him. “She didn't stop loving us,” she said, holding him tightly, wishing she could take his pain. “She stopped loving herself. We have to give her time. One of these days, she'll come back to us.”

“When?”

He pressed his face in the curve of her shoulder. She felt a sob catch in his chest. “I wish I knew,” she said.

Ethan came around the car. “How about some lunch before we take off?”

Reluctantly, Carly let go of Shawn. “There's some leftover turkey in the refrigerator. I'll make sandwiches.” The night before, over Andrea's protests, Carly had fixed a full Christmas dinner.

When Ethan opened the front door Muffin was there to greet them. He dutifully made the rounds, sniffing each of them in turn and pausing long enough for a pat on the head. When he'd completed his ritual, he sat on the tile floor, his head cocked, staring at the closed door. After several seconds, he looked over to Carly, barked and looked back at the door. Carly bit her lip, using one pain to divert her from the other. “Come on, Muffin,” she said and bent to pick the dog up in her arms. “Let's go in the kitchen and see if we can find you a snack—something sinful and distracting.”

Forty-five minutes later, Carly was standing at the front door again, only this time waving good-bye to Ethan and the boys as they took off for the movie in Linndale. She stood in the doorway for several minutes after they'd gone, hugging herself against the cold, staring off into the distance.

Could it really only have been seven weeks ago she'd opened this same door and found David standing there? It seemed half a lifetime.

She felt something rub up against her leg and looked to see Muffin standing beside her. The dog let out a short, yipping cry. Carly bent and gathered him in her arms. “Don't do this to me, Muffin,” she said, pressing her face against his floppy ear. “You can't possibly miss Andrea already.”

She went back inside, stopped to put the dog in his favorite chair, and noticed someone had turned on the Christmas tree lights. Without conscious thought, she walked across the room to unplug the cord. As she reached around the tree, she saw that there were several presents that had not been there the night before. Curious, she sat down and began to go through them.

She should have recognized Andrea's deft hand in the wrapping even before she looked at the tags. She picked up a small round package with Eric's name on it and ran her finger across the bow. Until this year, Andrea and Carly had done their Christmas shopping together. It was as much a tradition as the holly wreath on the front door.

The Christmases Carly gave her family were steeped in tradition, each of them her own creation. Her own childhood memories of the holiday were clouded by a stiff-necked father who went to too many parties and drank too much alcohol. Instead of reading
The Night before Christmas
to his daughter every year, Frank Strong had terrorized her with stories about a righteous Santa Claus who waited until bad little girls were asleep and then sneaked into their rooms to cut off their ponytails. He never told the stories when Barbara was around and it wasn't until years after he'd died that Carly had told her mother about them. Barbara had cried.