There Are No Words (The Morelli Sisters #3)

Chapter Fifteen

Allegra

“See you later, Dad. Thanks for letting us use the house,” I shouted and waved from the door as Martin opened Dad’s car door, and Dad waved and got in.

He had some dinner meeting in the city, so it worked out perfectly when I’d called my sisters and asked if we could have an impromptu sleepover. I’d decided to do it at Dad’s because I needed to get away from my apartment (and Brady) and wanted this to be a testosterone-free zone, excluding Dad, who wasn’t going to be here anyway.

Closing the front door behind me, I turned around and eyed my sisters, who’d all showed up in their pajamas and were ready to do what we did best—veg out and have fun.

“Snacks. We need snacks!” I announced and jumped up and down like a teenage girl who’d just gotten the house to herself. Which this was oddly like. Except I wasn’t a teenager, I was a knocked-up adult.

And that explained why I needed to pee. Damn jumping up and down.

“And music!” Perla said and whipped out the remote to the sound system in the house, turning it on with one swift press of a button.

Turning on her heel, Bianca left for the kitchen. “I’m on snacks,” she called, a finger in the air as she walked.

Perla stopped her, though, asking, “Do you think Dad has any good ones, though?”

With a finger to her lip, Bianca looked back around. “Good question.”

“No big deal. I already thought of that,” Maria put in and walked to the bags she’d dropped in the foyer.

Bianca bounced back. “Oooh, I love when you’re responsible for the food.” She dropped down on the hardwood and started helping Maria dig through the bags.

I wanted to walk over to see what she brought because, lately, I was always in the mood to eat, but I couldn’t hold my urine. “You guys do this. I’ve got to go pee,” I said and all but ran to the guest bath on the first floor.

* * *

I peed! Now where were we?

Oh, that was right. . . food.

I ran out to find my sisters in the living room, sleeping bags spread out all over the place, Perla’s horrible taste in music blasting, and snack bowls littering every available surface in the place. This was just like when we were teenagers. And I was so glad we were doing this. For so many reasons, but mostly because I liked these times with my sisters.

“Woah! You were thorough with the snacks, Maria,” I shouted to be heard over the music and tugged off my sweatshirt, revealing a lacy satin top that would soon be a crop top at the rate my baby bump was growing.

“Oooh, Momma’s getting use out of her sexy jammies before she wears burp cloths,” Bianca teased while Maria moved to lower the music.

I nodded. “I might as well.” I reached for a licorice and waved it in the air as I spoke. “I am so glad we did this, you guys. Thanks for dropping everything tonight.”

Munching on popcorn, Maria got up to get a bottle of water and said, “Not just tonight. Tomorrow, too.”

I had no idea. I looked around and was met with nods from Bianca and Perla, who was wearing the cutest knit pajama pants ever. I needed a pair just like them. “For real? I can’t believe it.”

Maria smiled. “It’s true. We figured we could do a little shopping tomorrow. You know, you’re going to need new clothes soon.”

“You don’t like the way I wear my jeans with the button open?” I laughed.

Perla popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth and tucked her feet under her. “Don’t worry, maternity fashion isn’t so bad.”

I shook my head because she didn’t get it. “I’m actually excited about maternity clothes. I love knowing that Baby is getting bigger.” I put my hand on my belly and looked down to where my daughter was growing. “I only wish Maria had kept her maternity stuff.” But Perla mentioning the fashion had given me an idea. “Although, Bibi, can you design maternity clothes for me?”

Bianca gasped, holding a hand to her chest. “First of all, I’m honored. Second, not really my thing, sorry. But if you ever decide to tie the knot, I’ve got you covered when it comes to your wedding dress.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “So, basically, you suck.” Really, what was the point of her being a designer now if she couldn’t design me something amazing when I needed it? Besides, how different were wedding dresses from regular clothes? Okay, maybe a lot, but that wasn’t the point.

Bianca laughed and I plopped down on the couch, crossing my legs under me. “I wish Mom was here,” I confessed, giving voice to the one thing I’d kept thinking since I’d peed on the stick and my life changed.

Bianca munched on a chocolate-covered pretzel. “I can imagine.” She sighed. “I miss Mom, too. All the time. You guys know that.”

I stood up and smiled. “Okay, I have an idea! Let’s go up to the attic and see if we can find Mom’s old stuff from when she was pregnant. I remember her telling you, Maria, that she kept some of her things when you had Isabella.” I grabbed Maria’s hand. “I really need this, guys,” I pleaded when no one moved. I tugged on Maria’s arm and tried again—“Please.”

“The attic?” Bianca whined. “I lived here until recently and always tried to avoid it. Who wants to spend their time in an attic? It’s like something straight out of a horror film.”

Perla laughed but stood up and pulled Bianca to her feet, too. “Come on. If Allie wants to do this, then we’re doing it.”

“Couldn’t you want to watch a movie like we usually do? Preferably a rom-com where the heroine is ballsy and the man is suave,” Bianca probed, wagging her eyebrows.

I shook my head. “We can do that later,” I promised and grabbed the bag of licorice.

Bianca sighed and took the bowl of chocolate-covered pretzels. “Fine, but these are coming with me.”

* * *

I protected my bag of licorice, laying it down gently on a small end table that had clearly been relegated to the attic in the eighties with its retro style that I couldn’t see Mom having—ever.

“This isn’t so bad,” I said, looking around at the mass of stuff my parents had accumulated over the years. They weren’t hoarders. They just clearly didn’t like to part with a lot of things. It was like our parents’ dirty little secret—the attic from hell.

In some ways, it felt like the attic should’ve been atop another family’s house and not ours. It just didn’t fit.

“Look, the lamp Grams gave Mom when she visited!” Perla pointed out, lifting it up and surveying it. “I really don’t know what she was thinking with this thing.”

I turned away from it, a hand over my mouth. I couldn’t help myself. It was so bad. I wasn’t sure which part was worse—the seashells that formed the base or the putrid green color of the lampshade. It wasn’t light green, it wasn’t mint. It didn’t know what it wanted to be. I could tell you this—ugly was what it was.

Maria laughed. “That’s why it’s up here.”

Facts.

Meanwhile, Bianca was still standing at the edge, like she didn’t want to come all the way in. “Find what you were looking for, Allie?” she asked me hopefully.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not going to take a second, Bibi. You might as well just come in,” I replied before directing my gaze elsewhere. There was so much stuff up here, I didn’t know what to look at first.

“Seriously, just come in here,” Maria insisted as she walked around until she revealed a dusty old cedar trunk in a corner. “Hey, wait! Could this be something?”

I walked over and stood behind her, peering over her shoulder. It definitely had potential. I could see it holding baby stuff. I nodded and moved to the side of her. “Maybe. Open it and let’s find out.” Best-case scenario, it’d be exactly what we were looking for and we’d get out of here before Bianca broke out in hives. Worst-case scenario, we’d tap into some weird stuff Mom or Dad once hid. Although, it seemed we’d already done that with the lamp, so unless there was a skeleton in that thing, I didn’t see how it could get worse. Kidding, by the way. There was no way they had a skeleton in here or anywhere for that matter. We were not skeletons-in-the-closet people. If anything, we were brush-it-under-the-rug people, but that was a whole other topic of conversation.

Maria seemed to be struggling with the lid. She let out a groan, like the struggle was as real as it got.

Not feeling the most patient, I asked, “What’s up?”

“It’s locked.”

Perla walked over with a strand of pearls—costume jewelry—hanging around her neck. “Hmm.”

Looking around, Maria looked to be at a loss. “Maybe this isn’t it.”

“Or maybe it holds kinky stuff,” I said, giving voice to what I felt could make this the new worst-case scenario.

Bianca gasped and finally walked in. Go figure this would prompt her interest. “Or a sex tape,” she said and kneeled down to fidget with the lock. I didn’t know how Knox put up with her. Honestly, he deserved an award.

“The fact that this was what made you finally come in here is sick,” I pointed out and crossed my arms before sitting down on a short stack of boxes.

She looked up at me and gave me a you’re-funny look when really she was silently saying kiss my butt . “It wasn’t really, but the sooner we get this open, the sooner we can go back downstairs and start the movie you promised me.” And there was her ulterior motive, my friends. There always was when it came to Bianca. Had to love her for that.

“Maybe this isn’t it,” Maria repeated while Perla and her started moving around stuff to see if there were any other possibilities.

Then Perla came over and tapped me on the shoulder. “Get up. Maybe the baby stuff is under your butt.”

I looked between my legs and sighed, standing so she could check while I helped myself to another licorice. If you were keeping count, that was only three. Okay, maybe four. But this was going to be my last one—promise. And I hadn’t had any other sugar today, so no need to worry about me or Baby.

Perla shouted, “Not it! Any luck with the lock, Bibi?”

Looking around, the chain under the lightbulb caught my attention, and suddenly I had no idea what my sisters were saying. I was fixated on what was hanging from it. It wasn’t just a chain or even an ordinary decoration or hook dangling from the chain. It looked like a key.

To an old wooden chest.

To the old wooden chest.

The one that currently held Bianca’s interest.

The very one that could have all our baby stuff in it.

That I could use for my baby.

That would make me feel close to Mom again.

“Guys!” I called, my eyes never once leaving the chain, but my hand instinctively going to my belly. “I think the key’s hiding in plain sight.”

Following my gaze, my sisters raced over under the light, and Perla grabbed it first. “This is it. It has to be,” she exclaimed, unhooking it from the chain and waving it in the air before Bianca ripped it from her hands.

Laser-focused, she announced, “I’m opening it.”

“Maria found the trunk,” I pointed out, looking to her.

But she only shook her head. “No. We’re up here for you. You should open it.”

Bianca held the key out for me to take. “She’s right. You open it.”

I held the smooth brass key in my hand, fingering the intricate design. I looked at each of my sisters before taking the first step toward the trunk and bending down to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of it.

By the time I got settled, Maria, Perla, and Bianca were around me, watching, waiting. “I hope this is it. I feel like it could be,” I declared as I inserted the key and turned. I felt the lock click and then lifted the lid, the white doily slipping down the back of the trunk as it opened.

This would’ve been the perfect time for chimes or a harp to start playing, but neither happened, so I turned to look back at my sisters. “It worked.”

They each nodded and smiled, coming to sit beside me.

Maria reached in first. “This is it, too,” she said, pulling out a delicate lace gown that one of us (or all of us) must’ve worn to be christened. At one time it must’ve been white, but all these years later, it had a tint of yellow that made me sad.

“It’s so beautiful,” I gushed and touched the skirt. “You didn’t use this for Isabella, did you?”

Maria shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?” Perla asked.

Then Bianca questioned, “Did Mom not offer it to you?”

“She did. But I was gifted another one that I couldn’t say no to. I talked about it with Mom, and she agreed I needed to accept the one that was given to Isabella when she was born.”

“Why haven’t I heard this story?” I asked, my interest piqued.

But Maria only shook her head again. “It’s not important.”

“Tell us,” Perla insisted.

Maria chuckled. “One day, I promise.” Then she looked at each of us in turn. “But this isn’t about me or Isabella. Let’s see what else we can uncover for Allie.”

I wasn’t about to push Maria. Something told me now wasn’t the right time, so instead, I reached in the trunk to see what other treasures it held. I pulled out several articles of clothing, a pair of infant sneakers that were too cute for words, and an old photo album.

“Hey, look, pictures of Mom and Dad!” Perla said and leaned her chin on my shoulder as I started flipping through the pages. “They were so young.”

I nodded. “She was so beautiful.” Our mother had the most regal elegance about her. She had been classy, but in an understated way. And she’d had the most wicked fashion sense. God, how I missed her.

Bianca sniffled beside me and wiped her eyes. “She’s missed so much these past eighteen months.”

“She’s with us,” Maria spoke, the wisdom of her years coming in clear.

I passed the album to Maria and turned to hug Bianca. “I agree.”

“Guys, there’s more,” Perla said, breaking up our moment and waving what looked like an old diary in front of us. “Mom’s diary.” She ran her finger down the spine and flipped the cover open.

I gasped. It wasn’t just any old diary. “It’s Mom’s pregnancy journal!” I practically shouted, in disbelief that we were holding something I didn’t even know existed. It felt like we’d just hit the jackpot. Like I’d just hit the jackpot.

“ This I didn’t know about,” Maria said, looking at it closely. “She never told me about it when I got pregnant. I wonder why not.”

Bianca cleared her throat. “Probably because she was with you for your pregnancy.”

She was with me, too, I thought, but kept it to myself. It wasn’t the same, I knew, but it would have to do.

Perla let me hold it and I went to the first page. There was a date at the top that gave me pause. “Uhh. . .”

“What?” Maria asked, looking over my shoulder.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It was obviously Mom’s. It was written in her handwriting. But the date was throwing me off. “Look,” I said and tapped the top corner.

Maria’s brows furrowed. “I wasn’t born that year.”

“I know!” I cried.

“What the heck?” she asked and ripped it from my hands finally, turning the pages.

Bianca shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

“Did our parents lie about your age, Maria?” Perla asked. “That would explain so much.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed, two thin slits, as she looked at Perla. “There’s no way.”

“Maybe Mom lost a baby. Do we know if she miscarried?” I asked, trying to make sense of this as Maria started reading some of the pages in the journal.

“No,” Bianca insisted, sounding as adamant as ever. “She would’ve told us because that’s important medical history we’d need to know. She never hid stuff like that from us.”

She wasn’t wrong. “So, what gives, Maria?” I asked, knowing she was scanning the pages furiously, her eyes roving over each one with unmatched focus.

But Maria was silent.

Not a single word.

Until she gasped.

Then. . . “I think Mom had another baby.”