Chapter 12 Tash
Tash
Rain hammered the roof so hard the gutters sounded like a drumline. My head buzzed worse than the weather. Every inch of the living room still screamed "chaos," and I wasn't above blaming the house for my nerves.
The blue couch sagged in the middle where Fifi had claimed her territory, and Mere was perched at the far end, legs tucked up, arms wrapped around a thick pillow she'd pilfered from my bed.
I didn't know where to stand, so I paced between the window and the wall.
The glass was streaked with water, nothing but blurry trees and the trembling porch light outside.
If I stared out there long enough, maybe my stomach would settle, but I doubted it.
At my back, the TV showed the start up menu of an Xbox game Fifi had been playing.
I snapped it off with the remote.
"I need to talk to you guys." Already, my voice sounded weird.
Fifi flopped over, rolling her eyes, but she didn't argue. Mere hesitated a beat, then nodded, braid unraveling in her hand. It was the fifth time today she started and abandoned it. Huey hopped on the couch. He had to be part of things, too.
The chair creaked ominously as I lowered myself, knees smacking the edge of a box labeled WINTER SWEATERS.
Huey beat me to the punch. He did his whale-on-the-beach routine, rolling onto his back and planting himself across Fi's lap. Fifi made a sound like she was suffocating, but then she giggled.
For a minute, I stalled.
Fifi watched me. She'd gone rigid, chin buried in her knees. Mere, still in her paint-stained hoodie, stared at me with her brows lowered. They could tell something was up.
I sucked in two breaths. "I've always told you everything I know. About your father, about the money, about how we got here. Every time you asked, I tried to answer as honestly and openly as I could, depending on your age and what you could handle. At this point, you knew everything I did."
"Are we in trouble?" Mere blurted, jumping straight to DEFCON three.
"No, you’re not in trouble," I said quickly. "This is just new information. Something I should've known, but nobody told me."
That didn't exactly calm anybody. Fifi studied me, suspicious as a cat near an open carrier.
Outside, thunder banged hard enough to rattle the windows. Huey snuffled and flopped his paws out, reaching for Mere's legs.
I went for it. "I thought your dad didn't want to be in your life. That's what I'd always believed. His family told me it was impossible for him to have kids, and that anyone who said otherwise was lying. They were convinced there was no way he was your biological father."
Mere drew her knees up, her expression guarded. Fifi gripped the lumpy throw pillow so tight the seams stretched.
"Is he, what do you mean?" Fifi blurted.
"He lives here now," I said, fighting to keep my own voice steady.
"In Laurel Gap. That's what I need to tell you.
I met him by accident this week. It turns out everything I knew was wrong.
His mother, your grandmother, never told him about you.
He didn't know I looked for him, or that you existed. "
Both my daughters stared at me blankly, like the words hadn't landed.
"I don't think she was trying to be cruel," I went on, the words scraping raw at the back of my throat as I chose my words carefully.
"I think she honestly believed what she said, that he couldn't have children.
He told me that it was a one in a million chance, but he really believes you're his daughters.
She must have thought I was just a scared girl.
I think she meant to protect him, or maybe herself.
But it doesn't matter, not really. What matters is she kept you from your dad, and he's devastated. "
Tears shoved their way out of my eyes, streaking my face before I could stop them. I scrubbed at my cheeks.
Fifi's face twisted. "So, wait, he didn't ditch us? He didn't know about us at all? It was our grandmother who didn't want us?"
"He didn't know." I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes before the crying got ugly. "He just found out, and he's heartbroken about missing so much. He wants to meet you."
Mere straightened, eyes steady on my face. "He does?"
I nodded. "He really wants to. But only if you're comfortable with it. I'm not going to force you into something that doesn't feel right, okay? It's your call, always."
Fifi didn't buy a word of it, at least not at first. She hunched forward, hands twisting at the pillow. Huey burrowed further into her lap. "Why should we believe him? He could just be saying that to make himself look good. What if this is some weird scam?"
Mere flicked a warning glance at her sister in classic peacemaker mode. She reached for Fifi's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Do we know anything else about him?" Mere asked, picking up where Fifi left off. "Like, what he does, where he's been? Did he ever try to find us?"
The storm rolled over, peeling lightning across the sky. The lights flickered briefly. Huey groaned and wormed out of Fifi's lap to lie between her and Mere.
I tried to find some solid ground. "No, he didn’t know about you.
His name is Chance Meyer. He's been living in Laurel Gap for about a year, running the bakery. His family used to move around a lot, which made it impossible for me to find them after you were born. I tried, I promise. But every time I came to Laurel Gap to see if they’d come back, the house would be deserted.
No forwarding address, nothing. He said he tried to find me, but only ever knew my first name.
And he didn't know about you to look for you. "
Mere bit her lip. "Is that why you never contacted him?"
"Not for lack of trying. His mother told me he'd moved out of state, but then soon after they all disappeared.
I tried online, but their whole family doesn't use social media.
Like, extremely private. There was just no way to track them down.
I didn't want to upset you by saying it over and over, but it's true. I did everything I could."
Fifi wasn't even blinking now. "What changed?"
"I saw him," I said. "When I was sampling in a creek. He came walking up out of nowhere. We talked, and I realized he'd never been told a word about the two of you."
The twins pressed closer together. Huey wriggled, but neither budged.
Fifi's hands worked furiously at the pillow, but her expression had shifted. Now it was calculation, not just anger. "Did his mom ever admit anything?"
"Yes. He said she confessed after he talked with her. The resemblance—" I shook my head. "He showed me a picture of his mother at a young age. Turns out, it's obvious. You look just like her."
Cue the waterworks. Mine, not theirs. I mopped my cheeks with my sleeve. No dignity at all, but I didn't care.
"So she knows about us now?" Mere asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"She does," I replied. "And I want to be clear.
I'm furious with her, but I also don't want to ruin the only chance you might have with a grandmother.
She's not malicious, I don't think. Just blindingly thoughtless.
She genuinely believed she was helping her son.
I'm still not sure if I can forgive her, but that's my baggage, not yours. "
Mere digested that slowly, as if her brain needed to check each word for poison.
Thunder boomed again, and the rain thickened. Fifi finally spoke, softer this time. "So, what does he want from us? Is he just going to show up here and, what, ask us to move in with him?"
"Absolutely not," I said, trying like hell to sound steady. "No one's being shipped off anywhere. He'd just like to meet you. Get to know you. See if there's a relationship to be had. I made it clear the ball is entirely in your court."
Fifi's shoulders dropped a millimeter. Mere shrugged lightly, but her eyes were searching mine.
That's when I remembered the photo. I unlocked my phone and flipped to the picture I'd snapped in the bakery.
It was an old print, faded and curled at the edges, but it was obvious.
Livia Meyer at sixteen, all attitude and wild hair, staring straight through the camera like she was daring the world to blink first.
I slid the phone over.
Both girls leaned in. Mere gasped, one hand flying to her mouth. Even Fifi stopped picking at the pillow. They stared at the screen, then at each other, and then at me.
"That's not—" Fifi started, but Mere cut her off.
"She looks exactly like you," she breathed. "Like, scary exactly."
Fifi grabbed the phone and brought it closer. Staring, she was silent, then she jabbed a finger at the jawline. "That's me. That's literally my face."
"Some of mine, too," Mere said, though she sounded less convinced. "It's like twins, but from a different century."
I let them have a minute with the evidence. I didn't talk. There was nothing to add.
Thunder rolled, further away now, less intense.
Fifi didn't hand the phone back right away. She just stared, the echoes of a million identity struggles probably crashing around her skull.
"So, what do we do now?" Mere finally asked. "Are we supposed to pretend like nothing happened and meet him somewhere?"
"Nothing is mandatory," I promised. "I'm not going to make you do a thing you're not ready for. If you want to meet him, we can do that. If you're not ready, it's okay."
Fifi's laugh was bitter. "What if he's a psycho?"
"He's not. I talked with him, really talked, and he's just a normal person. I can promise that much."
"How do you know? You barely knew him," Fifi countered, skepticism firing up again.
"I don't know. It's just, when we saw each other, it was obvious.
Like, if he'd been lying, I would've known.
Plus, he took it hard. He wanted to meet you the second he found out.
He's not interested in making up for lost time by forcing himself into your lives.
He's just… sad. And hopeful. Same as me honestly. "