Chapter Seventeen #2
Mother says nothing, but the look she gives Brittany could sand varnish off hardwood.
I open my mouth to explain why peas eating sunshine is an oversimplification, but Casey catches my eye and slowly shakes her head.
I close my mouth again before saying a hesitant, “Yes.”
Sienna grins and pops another pea into her mouth. “I like smart peas.”
Casey laughs outright. “I warned you.”
I frown at her. “You warned me about what?”
“She’ll let you explain absolutely anything.” Casey reaches for her glass. “She won’t understand half of it, but she’ll look fascinated the entire time.”
“I understood.”
Casey arches an eyebrow.
Sienna points her fork at me.
“Sunshine.”
“Sunshine,” I agree.
Casey smiles into her drink. “I rest my case.”
My mother is watching with a frown of disapproval, but I ignore it.
After dinner, Sienna goes upstairs with Casey.
Brittany excuses herself immediately. She barely touches the doorframe on her way out, moving fast, as though staying in this house requires an effort she can no longer produce.
My mother stays to finish her wine and tell me the house needs fresh flowers, that the arrangement in the foyer is two days past its best, and the staff should be reminded.
“The flowers are fine, Mother.”
“They’re wilting. It looks neglected.”
“The house isn’t neglected.”
“I didn’t say the house was neglected. I said the flowers look neglected.
” She sets down her glass with precise care.
“Sterling, you can’t keep this arrangement going indefinitely.
At some point, you’ll need to establish proper visitation, legal custody, and a structured home for Sienna.
This informal situation benefits no one. ”
“Casey is here voluntarily. The transplant team needs both parents available.”
“Of course. I’m speaking about what comes after.” She folds her hands in her lap. “The best time to file will be immediately after the procedure, while Casey’s attention is divided and Sienna is already settled here. Delaying only gives her time to build a case around returning to Asheville.”
I stare at her in shock. “You sound like you’ve spoken to an attorney.”
She shrugs. “I made inquiries.”
“About taking Sienna from her mother?” I sound far calmer than I feel.
Her expression shifts into patient surprise. “You say that as though Casey hasn’t kept your daughter from you for four years.”
“She didn’t know I would want her.”
“She knew exactly what she was doing.” Mother’s voice remains warm. “She left, concealed the pregnancy, and raised your child without you. Now you have the opportunity to correct that.”
“By filing for full custody while Casey is sitting beside our daughter’s hospital bed? You want me to blindside her at a time like that?” I’m so stunned I can barely process this version of my mother.
“You’re not blindsiding anyone. You’re protecting Sienna when Casey is least able to disrupt the transition.” She says it as though those are entirely different things. “It handles the Casey problem and ensures Sienna is where she belongs.”
“Casey isn’t a problem for you to solve.”
“No, but the way she has raised that child may become one.” Mother glances toward the stairs.
“Sienna is sweet, certainly, but she has already absorbed some of Casey’s habits.
The informality. The lack of discipline.
The tendency to challenge adults. Those things become harder to correct with age.
It may already be too late to stamp out some of them. ”
Anger rises so quickly I have to set down my own glass before I break it. “You should go.”
She blinks. “Sterling?”
“I said go.”
“I’m trying to help you avoid another mistake.”
I stiffen. “Sienna wasn’t a mistake, and there’s nothing wrong with how she’s been raised. She’s charming, precocious, and amazing especially after what she’s been through.”
Mother studies me for a moment, then rises. “Of course she’s amazing. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. You’re tired. We can discuss this when you’re thinking more clearly.”
“There’s no need to discuss changing my daughter.
” I don’t tell her she’s wrong about what I intend to do.
There will be no custody petition, no carefully timed ambush, and no attempt to turn Sienna into someone Mother finds more acceptable.
I only want her out of the house before I say something I can’t take back.
She touches my arm on the way past, brief and calibrated, the same gesture she used on Casey the day they arrived.
“Sienna is wonderful in spite of how she’s been raised.
We’re lucky to have the chance to finally know her.
” Then she leaves me standing in the dining room with the impression that she has already begun planning a war I never agreed to fight.
The night is wrong. It’s been wrong since dinner, since before dinner, since Brittany walked in and checked the room for Casey like a woman bracing for impact.
My mother’s maneuvering is familiar. Brittany’s behavior isn’t.
My mother engages. Brittany retreats. Those are different responses from women who, four years ago, sat in the same room and delivered the same accusation.
I clear the table. There’s no staff tonight.
The dishes give me a task for the questions I can’t contemplate yet.
I stack the plates to carry them to the kitchen.
I rinse them, load the dishwasher, and close the door.
None of it helps, because the question forming in the back of my head isn’t going away.
I go to my office, close the door, sit in the chair, and do something I’ve never done.
I go back to that night. Not to the accusation itself, because I’ve relieved my pain from that too many times, of learning my wife of six months had already betrayed me.
I try to filter out my emotions from the night and remember the atmosphere of the room instead.