Chapter 4 #2
Meghan laughed so hard she snorted, which got Becky laughing, too.
The women took turns layering the meat, cheese and pasta in a baking dish. “Your hands look just like mine,” said Becky.
“Except for the purple nail polish,” said Meghan.
Becky felt tears begin to well in her eyes. “Do you have any idea how much I missed you, Meggie? You were my best friend, then you were gone.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
Meghan picked up a towel and wiped her hands. “Why don’t you tell me.”
Becky swallowed, looking at the ceiling.
“Everything changed when you left. Mom was destroyed. I don’t think she even saw me anymore.
I kept trying to get her attention, but it was no use.
For a while, Dad was crying all the time, then he just shut down.
Neither of them mentioned your name at all anymore. ”
“I’m so sorry, Becky.”
“But you know what the worst part was? I missed you. I missed you every moment of every day for years and years.” She looked down at her hands, twisting a silver ring. “I was closer to you than I was to anybody, and you just left me behind like I didn’t even matter to you.”
“Oh, no, no,” said Meghan, reaching out and embracing her sister. “You mattered to me, Becky, more than you know.” She pulled back to look into her sister’s eyes. “I used to pretend I was your real mother, do you know that?”
“So how could you just leave?”
“Because I became an actual mother, to Fiona. I had to take care of her before I took care of anyone else. And that meant staying with Liam.”
Becky wiped at her eyes. “I guess I knew that.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No. But I’m glad you’re here, now.”
“Me, too.”
Becky reached into the ricotta with her finger, popping a dollop into her mouth.
Meghan glared at her. “Eeew.”
“What? My hands are clean.”
A devilish grin spread across Meghan’s face. “Do you remember the time Grandma caught you sneaking whipped cream from the top of the chocolate cream pie?”
“Of course I do. She threw a whole glob of it right in my face.” Realization dawned, and her eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare!”
Meghan smiled devilishly as she scooped out a handful and whipped it at her sister.
“Ah!” screamed Becky, reaching for the container of tomato sauce.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Meghan, raising her hands in front of her. “Enough,” she said firmly.
“Enough, my ass.” Becky laughed, dumping the sauce on her sister’s chest.
“You little punk!”
“Bring it on, sister!”
In just moments, the ingredients that had covered the counter were splattered all over the women’s faces, clothes and hair, the two of them laughing hysterically.
Becky sighed contentedly. “Looks like pizza for dinner.”
“Oh, well. Grandma’s lasagna sucked, anyway.”
Becky doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. “I’m going to pee my pants! I hate her lasagna, too!”
“It’s so good to be home, Monkey,” Meghan said, kissing her sister’s cheese-covered hair. “So good to be home.”
A light snow fell from the sky, making Meghan wonder if she should have checked the weather report before heading out to Rhea’s.
Red lights flashed in her rearview mirror and she cursed, wondering what she had done to get pulled over.
She stopped under a banner that read “Merry Christmas from the Largo Chamber of Commerce”.
“Do you know how fast you were going?” asked the officer.
Meghan turned to stare at him, seeing only a helmet and reflective glasses.
“About thirty-two?” said Meghan.
“Thirty-five. The speed limit is thirty.”
Are you kidding me?
She turned her head and rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for a small town police officer on a power trip.
“It was really the plates that got you pulled over, Meghan O’Connor,” he laughed. “We don't like out-of-towners speeding down Main Street. If I’d known it was you, I’d have looked the other way.”
He took off his glasses, revealing twinkling blue eyes that went with his handsome smile, the slight bend in his nose marring an otherwise perfect face.
“Ricky Powell,” she said, taking in his badge and uniform. “You're the sheriff?”
He nodded. “You back for good?”
“Looks like.” She was surprised to find that time had softened her reaction to Ricky. He wasn’t a bad guy. He had only tried to help her, after all.
“Where's that pretty little girl of yours, Fiona?”
Someone had been paying attention.
“Connecticut. I'm on my way to get her.”
“Listen,” he said, bracing his weight on the car door and leaning closer, “would you like to grab a bite to eat when you get back? See a movie or something?”
Liam’s kiss flashed in her mind, followed by his look of disgust.
He hates me.
“Sure. Why not.”
Ricky raised his eyebrows and gave her a hundred watt smile. “Great. Give me a call at the station when you get back in town.”
“I will.”
What did I just do?
She had no interest in dating Ricky Powell, she was just reeling from her run-in with Liam. When she got back into town, she would have to set Ricky straight.
He patted the side of her car, and she put it in drive. “Bye,” she said.
“See you soon, Meghan O’Connor.” he said with a wink.
Liam was pacing back and forth in his expansive kitchen, his father perched on a barstool, watching him.
“Relax. You'll be fine,” said Chip. At sixty, he had pale skin and ruddy cheeks from years of heavy drinking. His hair was white and thin on top, his belly fuller now that he nourished his body with food instead of liquor.
“The last time I saw her, she was seven,” said Liam. “She's going to be sixteen in March.” He stopped pacing and braced his arms on the granite counter across from his dad. “I used to tickle her until she was screaming like crazy. I don't think that's going to work anymore.”
“I don't think so.” Chip dragged a carrot through a tub of veggie dip. “She's probably into boys and makeup. Loud music. That sort of thing.” He shrugged. “Think of what you were like at that age.”
Liam flashed to himself at sixteen, an image of naked Meghan appearing in his memory. He wanted to stuff his father's mouth full of carrots to keep him from saying anything else.
“Thanks for that, Dad.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smirk.
Liam resumed his pacing, trying to see his home through his daughter's eyes. Would Fiona like it? The three story colonial was virtually falling down when he bought it. He had renovated it himself, bringing the old home back to its former glory and adding modern touches.
Looking around it now, he admitted he had done all of it with Fiona and Meghan in mind, from the purple bedroom at the top of the stairs to the sunroom off the master suite.
Son of a bitch.
The ring of the doorbell made his hands break out in a sweat.
“I'm going to stay here so you two can get reacquainted,” said Chip, gesturing with a stalk of celery.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Liam was a wreck of excitement and jangled emotions. He had lost a little girl, and she was being returned to him a young woman, a changeling. What would he say to her? Could he give her a hug? He opened the door with a trembling hand.
Fiona stood alone, Meghan nowhere in sight.
“Daddy?”
She was up to his shoulder, with beautiful red hair like her aunt Becky, her mother's green eyes, and his very own smile. She used it now to light up his world.
He felt his eyes begin to burn as his arms reached out to pull her in for a tight hug. “Oh God, Fiona. I missed you so much.”
She was shaking in his arms, her laughter mixing with sobs as she clutched at him.
Liam lifted his head to the heavens in gratitude, opening his eyes into the sun. His smile hadn't stretched this wide since the day his daughter disappeared from his life.
His gaze dropped to the car in the driveway, Meghan sitting behind the wheel.
Meghan.
Giving them time.
He waved to her, begrudgingly signaling her to come inside. He relaxed his grip on Fiona, letting his arm fall naturally around her shoulder. “Your grandfather’s in the kitchen. He can’t wait to see you.”
Fiona bit her lip. “I don't remember him.”
“You've never met him, sweetie. His name’s Chip.”
“Can I call him grandpa if I want to?”
“I bet he’d love that.”
“Hi, Meghan,” he said as she stepped onto the porch. He held out his hand. “Truce?”
The look of relief on her face was obvious. “Truce.”
He held the door for her. “Let's go inside.”
“Lindsay was upset. To be honest with you, I didn’t care too much about anyone back then, so long as I had a drink in my hand,” said Chip. He was sitting with Meghan in the kitchen, while Liam and Fiona looked at photo albums on the dining room table.
Meghan was surprised Chip brought up his drinking. “You seem better now.”
“As better as an alcoholic can ever be. If Liam hadn’t picked me up and dried me out at rehab, I’d be shit-faced someplace right now, instead of eating veggies and dip with a beautiful young woman.” He winked at her, and Meghan was surprised to find him charming.
“It is some pretty good broccoli.”
“Sweetheart, you should try the peppers,” he laughed.
“So, Liam did that? Got you into rehab?”
Chip nodded. “Though, you have to wonder why he came back here at all, with the sheriff looking for him and all.”
“I’ve wondered that myself.”
He picked up a piece of broccoli, breaking tiny florets off the larger piece and dropping them on his paper plate like a little forest. “Liam doesn't give up, Meghan. He's thickheaded. He didn't give up on me, and I don't think he ever gave up on you.”
“Are you kidding? He hates my guts,” she said, talking quietly so Liam wouldn’t hear her now.
“Let's just say, he doesn't hate you as much as I'd hate you, if you'd done to me what you did to him.”
Liam walked into the kitchen, a smile on his lips and Fiona on his heels. “Who wants to go out for pizza?” he asked.
“Sounds good to me,” said Chip.
Meghan looked at her watch. “We can't. I have plans,” she said, watching as Liam and Fiona's smiles fell in unison. On an impulse, she added, “You know what? You guys go without me.”
“Are you sure?” asked Liam.