Chapter Eight #2
I drank the water as she suggested, letting the coolness reduce my body temperature and my temper. Ilona was right. It was useless to be angry with someone who wasn’t around to defend herself.
But that didn’t mean I would let this go.
I struggled through my thoughts as I ate.
If Mom had considered telling Bastien about me, then she must’ve had his address at one time.
He was unlikely to live in the same place, but it was something to go on, assuming I could find the address.
One look around this house proved she rarely threw anything away.
One way or another, I would find Bastien Allard and tell him he had a daughter.
I didn’t need anything from him, but it would be nice to know if he wasn’t the violent, unstable train wreck the man who raised me turned out to be.
I’d tell him Mom passed recently and kept photos of him hidden.
That I hadn’t known until recently. I wasn’t just being selfish in trying to track him down.
I couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t meet Camilla, or know she existed, until she was in her forties.
Bastien deserved the truth. And he should have the chance to know me too.
Ilona’s chair scraped over the linoleum as she rose from the table and carried her trash to the wastebasket.
“How do you feel about yard sales?” she asked.
“Might do wonders to get rid of some of this stuff. I can help if you want to get one going. Harvey, he’s in the blue house on the corner,” she clarified, “works at the paper. He’ll put the ad in for us if we ask, and he’s got two teenage daughters home for the summer.
They can make posters and put them up around the neighborhood.
Real nice girls. Always asking if I need anything. ”
It took a long moment for her words to register through the fog in my brain, another few seconds for what she said to make sense. I was so enraptured by the possibility of contacting my biological father that the sharp change in subject felt like being pulled up from the bottom of a swimming pool.
Part of me had completely forgotten she was there.
“Are you finished?” she asked, moving toward me, one arm outstretched.
I’d eaten my sandwich and salad, but I barely recalled doing so. “I might need to lie down.”
Ilona’s expression was patient, her smile sad as she cleared the table, then returned to stroke a gentle palm over my head. “I think that’s a good idea.”
I searched Bastien’s name online and on social media platforms until the lack of results left my mind as tired as my body. I fell asleep in the trailer, box fans propped in the windows. Then I dreamed of my mother.
I saw her in the kitchen, and I raged over the choices she’d made.
Demanded answers and received none. My dad, Carl, was to blame for the emotionally toxic state of our home, but Mom let her fears keep her there.
Keep us there. Fear of public opinion. Fear of his repercussions.
Fear of trying to make it on her own. The fact that society put her in that position made me angrier and more breathless.
Partly because I had the same worries before I left Robert.
My body jerked upright in alarm. Something had woken me. I didn’t know what.
“Mom?” Camilla’s voice pulled my eyes toward the door. “You in there?”
“Com—” I cleared my throat and tried again. The box fans were loud in the small space. “Coming!”
How long was she waiting?
A blast of air chilled my face as I passed the window. I ran a palm over my wet cheek in response. Had I been crying?
I pushed open the door and my heart melted.
Camilla smiled up at me. “Hey, Mama,” she said. Her smile fell as she took me in. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, warmed by the sight of her precious face. “I think I cried in my sleep.” A nervous chuckle bubbled out of me. I hadn’t cried in so long, the tears seemed like progress, even if I wasn’t awake when they came.
Interesting that I felt safer emoting in a trailer in my childhood backyard than I had in the McMansion Robert built inside a gated community, but it wasn’t the time to dwell on that.
“Come in!” I frowned and laughed again. “Actually, I’ll come out. What are you doing here? I’m so glad to see you!” I pulled her into a tight embrace, and she rocked me foot to foot.
“Just checking in,” she said. “Looks like you made a lot of progress already.” She stepped back and hooked a thumb over one shoulder, indicating the patio overflowing with Mom’s stuff. “Anything I can do to help? I have a little time before yoga. I teach twice this evening.”
“Evening?” I glanced at my watch. I’d slept longer than I realized. “Shoot. That nap cost me half the day.”
She shook her head. “People experiencing emotional trauma require lots of sleep. It’s part of the healing process.”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the house. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yes, but first, I have something for you. Give me just a sec.” She broke free and jogged toward her Toyota.
She pulled a tote bag from the floor of the back seat and hooked it over one shoulder, then hefted a pet carrier into her arms. “I picked up some groceries for you while I was at the store earlier. I dropped Raisin at the groomer and had some time to kill. Two errands, one cat.”
I met her on the lawn and took the carrier, peering through the little gate. “Look at that blowout! This can’t be the same creature. This is one of those diva pets from the national cat show.”
“It’s Raisin,” she assured me. “The groomer had a couple of extra bandages on her fingers when I picked him up, but I still think this cat liked the attention.”
I set Raisin’s crate on the dining room floor and opened the gate.
He lumbered out, stretching both front legs in a deep lunge before arching like a Halloween cat, then taking a seat.
His dark, shaggy fur was neither black nor brown.
Soft and shiny now, the tufts of hair stood out in all directions around his flat face and yellow eyes.
“You look so handsome,” I cooed.
He bumped his head against my leg, then circled me slowly, tail up as if petting me as he passed.
“I thought you might like the company,” Camilla said. “I hated thinking of you all alone here. I can’t imagine losing you, then being left to sort your things. It’s got to be so hard.” Her voice trembled, and I hugged her tightly once again.
“I’m going to be okay,” I promised. “I’m tougher than I look.”
She released me slowly and offered a strained smile. “I’m not so sure about Dad.”
I tensed. “Yeah?” A dozen awful scenarios flipped through my mind. Had he called her crying? Spewing slander? Something worse?
“I stopped by to check on him last night,” she said.
“He seemed confused, maybe in shock. He said he thought you were happy, and he never saw this coming. Also, apparently, he doesn’t believe in divorce.
He said marriage is supposed to be forever.
” She frowned and shook her head. “I listened while he talked, but if he really believed that, he would’ve been a better husband.
He’d have at least tried to be your partner or friend.
He didn’t, and he can’t really think you were happy when he barely spoke to you unless it was to complain. ”
Emotion wedged in my throat, stealing my words. Camilla had seen so much more than I wanted her to. She saw right past my forced smiles and pretenses. Just because she hadn’t seen her parents fight like I had didn’t mean she was any less aware of the toxicity. I hated that I’d let her witness this.
She deserved so much better.
“Are you okay?” she asked, frowning as I struggled to speak. “I can take the cat back if it’s too much. I probably should’ve asked you first, but I’ll need a cat sitter when Jeff and I leave for the Maldives.”
“It’s okay. Raisin can stay here.” I stepped away with a forced smile. I tucked loose hairs behind my ears, hoping to look more casual than I felt. I’d nearly forgotten about her trip when my life fell apart. She and Jeff had rescheduled after Mom died. “When are you going?”
“August, the last two weeks before school starts. Jeff wanted me to have as much time as I need with you right now.”
“Very thoughtful.”
“He is,” she agreed. “I’m not quite sure why you don’t seem to believe it.”
I dropped the act and lowered my shoulders. “I was your age when I got married. So was my mom. It didn’t work out for either of us. I want so much better for you.”
“I know you do,” Camilla said. “But Jeff isn’t Dad or Grandpa, and I’m not you or Grandma.
My mama taught me about my very high worth, every single day, and she showed me how much she believed it with her actions.
I see you, Mama,” she said sweetly. “I saw you then, and I see you now. I hold everyone I meet to your standards. I will never accept anything less.”
My eyes misted, and I smiled. “I did okay?”
“You were exactly the mother I needed.”
And then the tears began to fall.