Chapter 28 Vanessa
Vanessa
Growing up without siblings felt hard to me.
When I found Samantha and Natalie, it felt like my family was finally complete.
I was about eleven when my parents dragged me to a family reunion for people I’d never met.
It was my dad’s extended family, and they lived in Ohio, and it was cool there in the mornings, even in the summer.
The part of that family reunion I remember the best was the three-legged race.
Mom tied my leg to a cousin I barely knew, explaining that we were close to the same size, so we’d be a good team and might win.
When we practiced walking, the bandana around my ankle and the other one around my knee hurt, and the little girl, whose name I’ve since forgotten, didn’t seem to like it much either.
After the race started, we quickly fell behind, and I had to watch as bigger and much more connected teams flew toward the finish line.
Their legs seemed to move as though they were all connected, their inside legs shifting together, and the outside legs moving at the same time.
Our legs wobbled, and when I started too soon, I yanked on her leg.
When she took off early, she tore on mine.
It was frustrating all around. I’ve decided that while you’re dating someone else who has children, especially children who aren’t even the same age, it’s a bit like a three-legged race, trying to sync your families.
When my children were quite young, Jason and I used to wake up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, but now all of us sleep in until eight in the morning before opening gifts.
Jack’s kids are still in the up-before-sunrise stage.
So when we talked about Christmas morning, and he expressed an interest in opening gifts together, suggesting we meet at six a.m., I laughed.
That hurt his feelings, ripping on his leg.
I explained that my kids would never wake up that early, but I offered to have him and his kids over for a later breakfast, around eight, so we could see each other Christmas morning.
He agreed it was a solid plan, if I was sure my children wouldn’t be upset at delaying their present opening.
I assured him that while Trina would be excited, she wouldn’t be upset.
She was old enough to understand that delaying presents meant extending the magic.
In practice, things were even more complicated than my plan.
Trish decided to keep Jeremy at her place for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
I thought about arguing, but things felt complicated enough on my end, so I left her alone with her decision.
I wish she was here, but when Jack texted me at seven-thirty, I was glad I had one less thing to manage.
My parents just showed up. I’m not sure what to do. I didn’t invite them, and Quinn’s here, too.
I think about telling him not to bother coming. He could spend time with them, and I’ll spend time with my kids. We aren’t, after all, joined at the ankle and knee. But I know how he’ll feel. I can imagine the look on his face.
So I do something far dumber.
Bring them for breakfast.
I cringe as I hit send.
Because I do not want them here. In fact, his mother may be the very last person I want to see on Christmas morning, ruining the happiest day of the year with my family.
Surely she’ll be on her best behavior, or better yet, maybe she’ll cancel, knowing he had plans—plans we made in advance, unlike her—to be with me.
No such luck.
At four minutes after eight, Jack, his sister Quinn, his adorable children, and his mother and father pull up outside, sharing one car to get here. How eco-friendly of them.
“Merry Christmas.” Quinn’s smile is warm. “It was so nice of you to invite us with no notice. I’m sorry we’re so rude.”
“It’s hardly rude to spend Christmas morning with one’s own son,” Mrs. Shanahan says.
“I was delighted you could all come,” I say. “The more the merrier.”
“Ah, good joke,” Mr. Shanahan says. “Merry Christmas. More the merrier.” He winks.
I really like Jack’s dad. He’s almost painfully corny, but he’s always happy, and he really wants to like everyone and everything. I wonder whether his wife is the way she is to try and balance out the universe.
“Wook!” Rory says. “I got a pony.” She waves her plastic pony through the air. “Dad says I get widing wessons from Nessa!” She hugs me around the waist. “Fank you so much!” She’s beaming up at me, her tiny body glued to mine. “It’s aww I wanted.”
I laugh. “I’m glad you’re excited to ride with Aunt Samantha. You can ride at the same time as Blaine, Aunt Natalie’s daughter.”
“But they’re not really you children’s aunts, are they?” Mrs. Shanahan’s eyebrow arches sharply.
“Mum, let it be,” Quinn says. “It’s a lovely gift.”
“I’m just trying not to confuse the children,” she says. “We call things what they are in our family, and apparently not everyone does that.”
I wait for Jack to defend me, to tell her that they are my siblings, of the heart if not of the body, but he stays quiet. He doesn’t even change the subject. He just helps Ryan grab a plate.
“Let’s all have a prayer before we start to eat breakfast. It is the birthday of our Lord and Savior, after all.” I smile.
“A prayer?” Mrs. Shanahan’s eyebrows shoot up. “I do hope you’re saying Bless us, O Lord?”
Quinn groans. “Mum, you know she’s not Catholic. Let her pray in her own home.”
Trace is glaring. “I’ll say it.” He says a lovely prayer, thanking the Lord for all our many blessings, for this Christmas morning, for our gifts, for our home, for our family and friends, and for the birth of the Savior. He blesses the food, and he closes with Amen.
Then, as though he hasn’t prayed at all, Mrs. Shanahan points at Jack’s children. They bow their heads. “Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, Amen.”
I wait for Jack to say or do something that lets his mother know that they don’t need to repeat prayers. We may not pray the same, but surely God won’t require us to say two prayers over every meal?
But he’s quiet.
I decide that double prayers can’t really hurt.
When we start eating, though, somehow, she gets worse.
“Uh, oh.” She pokes at the center of her cinnamon roll.
“This isn’t cooked entirely through.” She snatches up the twins’ plates, walks across to the trash, and dumps everything in.
“What a shame, but we can’t risk anyone getting sick.
” She glares at Quinn and her husband pointedly.
Quinn keeps eating, like she doesn’t see her mother or hear her either.
Mr. Shanahan says, “I shouldn’t eat a cinnamon roll at my age, so really you did me a favor, but the eggs and this other thing—what did you say it was? Hominy?” He smiles. “It was delicious.”
Again, I wait for Jack to comment, but he just gets another plate with some eggs on it and offers it to the twins. By the time breakfast is through, I’m about ready to kick him out myself. I’m not even mad at his mother.
I’m mad at him for being such a coward.
“Well, we haven’t opened gifts yet.” I point at the family room. “I don’t want to keep your family from celebrating any longer on your Christmas day.” I pick up Jack’s bag and carry it toward the door.
“Thanks.” He smiles. “Actually, I have something I forgot to bring yesterday. Mum, can you help me carry it inside?”
His mother beams and follows him out.
Quinn rushes to take the bag from me. “I’m sorry my mother’s such a mess.
Here’s what you need to know, though. Being her child isn’t easy.
She’s spent her whole life making us feel like we’re never enough.
Not smart enough. Not hard-working enough.
Just not enough.” She drops a hand on my shoulder.
“Jack loves you, and he’s really trying.
It’ll get better, because he’ll learn to be clear with her on the front end. ”
I understand he may have some baggage there, but I’m not sure whether I can handle dealing with the way he lets her treat me.
“Ryan’s drawing on Trina’s wall with a black marker,” Bryce says, pointing.
Quinn swears. “I’ll go get him.”
Mr. Shanahan follows after her, “And I’ll find Rory.” He half-waves, even now, entirely pleasant and happy. He’s like a puppy dog to his wife’s Doberman.
I decide two adults should be enough to manage two small children, and if I have to repaint a wall of Trina’s room, it’s not the end of the world.
I head for the door, needing Jack and his mother to be ready to head on home.
I’m not sure how much longer I can handle the way he acts around his mother before I explode.
Only, when I start to walk outside, he and his mother are talking intently. I freeze, unable to help myself. That phrase, ‘all ears,’ was made for me in this moment.
“—how important it is that you don’t feel silly, especially in front of your own husband and daughter, but Mum, you were the one who was being ridiculous. You were out of line.”
“I’m the wronged party here,” she says. “I wanted to spend Christmas morning with my own son, but apparently now I have to pre-book just to see you.”
He shakes his head. “No, Mum, you just have to be polite—I’d settle for civil—to the woman I love.” He lifts a finger. “And if it comes down to it, I love her more than you. Don’t make me pick who to see. You won’t like what I choose.”
I’m still a little upset that he did nothing to stop her from dinging me, but I feel a lot better. He did eventually do something. He didn’t just let it pass, ignoring his mother and her behavior toward me. Maybe he knew that if he went head-to-head with her in a group, she’d resent me more.
But he also told her that if he had to choose, he’d choose me, implying he will choose not to see her if she keeps belittling me.
I’m happy about it.
But I also feel guilty. I’ve ducked back into the kitchen, my back against the wall, so when the door swings open, I jump.
“Were you listening in?” He’s smiling. “You little snoop.”
“I—your mom was terrible today. She’s been like that since she found out we were dating.”
He sighs. “I know, and I’m sorry I let you take that abuse for too long. She’s my mom, and I’m not great at fighting her. It was always easier to just let her bully people.”
“I don’t want you to have to cut off your family because of me.”
“Which is exactly why I would pick you. I can’t stop her from being rude and making you sad, so I’ll keep her away so she can’t. If it comes to that, it’s her decision, not yours.” He runs a hand down my hair. “Don’t feel bad about that. Not for one second.”
“What if you resent me for it later?”
He shakes his head. “I won’t. I know my mother, and I know you, and you’re the person I want to be a mother to my children.
Your love is the kind of love I want for them, not her conditional, dictatorial love.
Your son has made some mistakes, and you stepped in to try and help, but you loved him throughout.
I think if I ever screwed up, she’d have taken her love away, and I’ve lived in fear of that all my life. ”
It hurts my heart to hear it.
“Anyway.” He shrugs. “She’s my mom, so I think she’ll play nicer, but if she can’t, I still pick you, without blaming you.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He presses a quick kiss to my mouth. “You’re my top priority, Vanessa Littleton. In a very short time, you’ve become extremely important to me. I won’t just stand by and let her make you feel small. With me around, you’ll never be small.”
Once they leave, I assess the damage.
We’re definitely going to need to repaint Trina’s wall, but at the bottom right, there’s a tiny little heart. I point at it. “Maybe we leave that part.”
Trina smiles. “Yeah, let’s.”
Some damage is permanent.
Some can be repaired.
I think the key is fixing what we can, living with the rest, and learning to love the past and the present, in spite of their imperfections. I’m proud of Jack for defending me today, and I’m almost glad his mother’s such a jerk.
It’s taught me how he’ll react, even when something is hard.
He’ll always stand between me and the monster, even when that monster is his own mother. For the first time since Jason died, a man made me feel safe with him.
It’s a nice feeling.
A very nice feeling.