Chapter 13
CONFESSIONAL 1189.5
Judson, Lana (Public Relations Director: Juniper Ridge)
When things go to hell, that’s when a good PR pro really shines. Everyone else starts freaking out, but you?
You’re cool as can be.
There you are, not in the spotlight, but behind the scenes working your magic. You know what needs to be done, and it’s like muscle memory kicking in.
[long pause]
The heart’s a muscle.
The most important one in the human body.
[quietly unclips mic and exits studio]
* * *
For the next fifteen minutes, I’m a robot.
I have to be.
It’s the only way to survive the last moments of Jamila Jarrett’s show with my heart burned to ash in my chest. With my mother unsmiling beside me, I slide into PR survival mode.
“Now that we’ve all settled down,” I say smoothly, my eyes shooting ice at my mother, “Let’s take a step back.”
“A step back.” Jamila looks at her viewers, and the audience squirms. “Ohh-kay.”
She’s baiting me now, but I won’t bite. I’m a goddamn professional. “I think every single one of us knows how it feels when someone says something awful about us.” I look at the crowd and see a few heads nod. Good. “Something hurtful and cruel and, whether it’s true or not, words have impact. We’re all human. All of us. Doesn’t matter if you’re a teacher or a chef or an actress or an astronaut. Everyone’s got feelings.”
I’m seeing more nods from the crowd as I turn back to my mother. She looks unsure but doesn’t open her mouth. Good. She’s said more than enough already.
As I reach for her hand, Mom stiffens. “I can say with great confidence that my mother shares my belief that it’s on all of us to do better. To be mindful of our words.”
Shirleen has no choice but to nod and pretend we’re just a happy mother/daughter team. That a wrecking ball hasn’t smashed through our carefully crafted illusion.
“You’re right, of course.” Jamila’s smile wobbles. “Lord knows people have said cruel things about me over the years.” As she looks at the crowd, she straightens a little. “False things.”
“Indeed.” I clear my throat and look at Jamila. “Which is why it’s so important to rise above the worst things other people say about you.”
Jamila looks uncertain. “Well, I don’t know about?—”
“In a spirit of rising above,” I continue, not giving Jamila a chance to steer us back to scandal. I’m done with that. “Shirleen Judson will be donating half her release week royalties from Lemon Light to support the fine work of the Anti-Bullying League. They’re an international charity aimed at stomping out bullying worldwide.”
Mom’s eyes go wide as Jamila claps. “How generous, Shirleen.” Jamila tries to rally. “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”
My mother seems frozen. Her eyelashes dip, blinking two or three times, so I know she’s alive. Then something shifts.
Mom turns to face me, her voice much too soft with the din of the crowd. “I’m sorry,” she says, and the audience quiets. “I’m sorry for putting you in an unfair position. A mother prioritizes her child’s needs first, and I—” Her voice hitches, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I haven’t always done that. And I’m sorry.”
As the audience claps, I lean over the arm of my chair, and I hug her. I hug her hard and fierce as she strokes my hair and tears roll down my face. “Thank you.”
“I screwed up,” she whispers. “Not just today. Lana, if I could go back?—”
“It’s okay.” It’s not, but I’m good at pretending. “It will be okay.”
It may not, but I keep moving forward because it’s what I do. I’m a goddamn Judson, bloodline or not.
Composing myself, I turn back to face Jamila. “Is there anything else?”
The hostess looks deep in my eyes. Whatever she sees makes her give a sharp nod. Dropping her cue cards, Jamila turns back to the cameras. “You know, sometimes we feel like we have the right to know every last detail of a celebrity’s life. They’re fair game, right?”
A few heads nod, but some in the crowd start shaking their heads.
“No,” someone calls. “Maybe it’s none of our business.”
“Amen.” Jamila looks back at Mom. “I hope your book does well. I really do.”
“Thank you.”
As the audience claps, I unclip my mic and stand when the camera pans away. Jamila steps back to speak with her producer. I turn to go, but Mom grabs my hand. “What are you going to do?”
There’s worry in her voice, but not the self-serving kind. It’s motherly love, the flawed and sometimes ugly sort. Shirleen Judson isn’t perfect. Far from it.
But she’s still my mother.
“I love you,” I tell her, squeezing her hand once before releasing it. “And I forgive you. But I need to not talk with you for a little while.”
I don’t wait for a response. I walk straight out the door and into the sunlight, half expecting a swarm of TV crews and reporters.
But we’re at Juniper Ridge, so there’s no paparazzi. Just bright blue skies and a sparrow that swoops to the branch I duck under on my way to the path. In the pond up ahead, someone’s kayaking.
As I draw a deep breath, I do a body scan. My limbs are intact, the same arms and legs I had an hour ago. My stomach’s still there, growling a reminder that I missed lunch. My heart… Well, that’s another story.
I keep walking because, honestly? Putting one foot in front of the other feels like all I can do right now. I make it six steps when Patti and Colleen burst from the café with a bakery bag. They’re moving fast, barreling at me like gray-haired tornadoes of motherly love.
“Here.” Patti thrusts the bag at me, and I take it. “Cinnamon knots. I made them with extra cardamom the way you like them.”
“We’re so proud of you, hon.” Colleen pulls me in a hug so tight and so warm that I forget my own name. “We love you like our own kid, you know that?”
“I do.” I sniff as she lets go, clutching the bag to my chest. “I love you guys.”
“Call if you need us.” Colleen takes Patti’s hand, and they step back. “And if anyone fucks with you on your way home?—”
“I’ve got it handled.” I pull a cinnamon knot from the bag and take a bite. It’s spicy and warm and tastes like love. “Thank you for this.”
I turn toward my cabin, feeling the love of my found family. Not just Patti and Colleen, but everyone at Juniper Ridge. A few people nod as I stride down the path, but no one takes pictures. No one pauses to grill me or gives me a look like they know some big secret.
We’re all just people here.
When I reach my humble little cabin, I shut the door behind me and walk to the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, then swipe wet mascara rings out from under my eyes. I look haggard and hollow, but somehow still strong.
Goddammit, I’m a Judson. No matter what my DNA says.
A knock at the front door doesn’t surprise me. I pad to the front of the house as my heart thrums steadily in my chest. I knew Dal wouldn’t go quietly.
“Lana?” It’s Lauren’s voice, not Dal’s, but I’m not disappointed.
Just a little dead inside.
“Open up, Lan.” That’s Mari this time, her voice tight with concern. “We need to see you.”
Drawing a breath, I open the door. Then take a step back. “It’s—” Wow, holy shit. “All of you.”
There’s Cooper and Gabe, Mari and Lauren, even Dean standing off to the side. I glance at my watch, but it’s only two thirty.
“What are you doing here?” Alone, without their spouses. “Dinner’s not until seven.”
Mari shifts to the front of the group. “We wanted to talk to you. Can we come in?”
I nod and step aside, watching my brothers and sisters file into my living room. Lauren and Mari and Gabe line up on my sofa. Dean leans on the wall as Cooper pauses beside me.
“Come here,” he says and pulls me in for a hug. “It’ll be okay.”
“I know,” I sniff into his shirt, holding it together as best I can. “Could you tell I broke up with Dal at the break?”
“We guessed,” Lauren says as Cooper leads me to the loveseat. It’s pushed close to the sofa, and she squeezes my hand as I sit. “Take it from your sister, who did the same thing in a very similar situation.”
I’d almost forgotten how Lauren and Nick split up. Nick thought he knew better than her how to handle a sticky situation, and Lauren—well, she’s a Judson. We’re determined to stand on our own two feet.
“Thanks,” I manage, glancing from face to face. “I take it you all saw.”
“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Sorry you had to do that alone.”
“No, I’m sorry.” I draw a deep breath, not sure where to start. “There’s something I’ve hidden from you for years. Something that makes me…” I search for the words, coming up empty. “Not like the rest of you.”
“Lana.” Mari’s eyes fill with compassion as she gets up and moves to the loveseat beside me. “Honey, we know.”
I blink. “Know what?”
“We don’t know.” Cooper pulls a fidget toy from his pocket, fingers twirling the tiny wooden puzzle. “But we kinda guessed.”
I look from brother to brother, sister to sister, not sure we’re all saying the same thing. We’ve skirted this issue so long that nothing feels clear.
But I need to speak my truth out loud. “I’m your half-sister,” I tell them. “Dad’s not really my—my—” I stop there, because dammit. He’s still my father. “Biologically, Mom is my mother, but Laurence Judson isn’t technically my?—”
“It’s okay, Lan.” Kindness fills Gabe’s eyes as he looks into my eyes. “You are our sister. Period. End of story. Nothing else needs to be said.”
Relief floods my core, but Gabe’s wrong on that point. “No, something needs to be said.” I scan their eyes, none of them quite matching mine. “For years, I’ve known I wasn’t exactly like the rest of you. Biologically speaking, I mean. But I’m also younger. And just—different.”
“We’re all different, sweetie.” Mari’s arm goes around me, warm and secure. “Not a single one of us is the same.”
Coop puts a hand on my shoulder, looking down with eyes that see everything. “She’s right,” he says softly. “You guys are all straight and narrow, while I’m the alcoholic black sheep with ADHD.”
Lauren folds her arms. “I’m the foul-mouthed, overachieving, short-tempered bitch sister.”
“Oh, this is a good game.” Gabe leans into the sofa, arms splayed over the back. “I’m the dickhead who met my wife under false pretenses while running from paparazzi because a film I made got someone killed.”
There’s more rumbling from my siblings, a tacit agreement we’re completely different humans. But I can’t miss the elephant in the room.
“I just need to be clear,” I tell them. “Genetics aside, I’ve been lying to you for years.”
Lauren lifts a hand and strokes my arm. “Sweetie, we all have secrets.”
Cooper joins Gabe against the wall, stuffing his hands in both pockets. “We do?”
Dean punches him in the shoulder and Coop flinches. “I’m kidding, jeez.” He rubs his sore arm and gives me a wobbly smile. “We don’t have to know every little thing about each other.”
“That’s right,” Mari says, slipping into shrink mode. “Boundaries are a safe way to establish autonomy in the face of?—”
“I wet the bed.” Big brother Dean clears his throat. “Not recently, I mean. But way longer than most kids. It’s why I never had sleepovers in middle school.”
Um…okay?
I force a straight face in case he’s still torn up about this. “Thank you for sharing.”
“Just thought you should know.” Dean frowns like he’s maybe not making the right point. “We all have shit we don’t tell each other.”
Lauren nods sagely, doing a worse job than I did at keeping a straight face. “And we appreciate you popping the cork with that gem.”
“Does Vanessa know?” Coop leans away in case Dean throws another jab. “Like do you guys have rubber sheets or separate beds or?—”
“I said I used to, asshole.” Dean looks disgusted, but he’s not. I can tell they’re all trying to cheer me. It’s a Judson ensemble cast, and everyone’s playing a role. “I’m sharing my shit, so Lana knows she’s not alone.”
Mari presses her lips together. “And I, for one, want to acknowledge your growth and personal development as a?—”
“Yes, Gable?” Lauren points to our second-oldest brother, who’s holding his hand in the air. “You have something you’d like to share?”
Gabe drops his hand like a school kid called on in class. “I was terrified to have a baby,” he says, glancing around a bit sheepishly. “I thought for sure I’d screw it up and almost told Gretchen I couldn’t be a dad because I thought I’d be awful at it.” He gives a lopsided grin and shrugs. “Guess I got over that.”
“And we’re glad you did.” Coop grins. “You make cute babies.”
“Thanks.” Gabe’s smile lights up my living room. “I might’ve had some help in that department.”
“Speaking of sex,” Lauren says, like it’s a natural segue. “I didn’t have it until I was twenty-five.”
“What?” That can’t be right. “But you dated that director for a whole year when you were nineteen.” Though now that I think about it, I always kinda guessed he was gay. “You never slept with him?”
“Publicity stunt,” she confirms, crossing her arms. She won’t betray the guy’s sexuality, even now. “I’m serious. I’ve only been with two men besides Nick.”
I’m struggling to wrap my head around this. For most of my youth, my big sister’s love life made national news. “What about all those stories about you and that French actor—what was his name?”
“Jean-Pierre,” says Mari dreamily as Lauren rolls her eyes.
“Because the media gets things right every time,” she mutters, giving me a meaningful glance.
“Touché.” I glance at Cooper, who’s inched to the edge of the loveseat.
He draws a deep breath and puts his hands on his knees. “I relapsed once and never told you.” Ignoring a gasp from Lauren, he keeps going. “Not long before we bought this place? I told you all I had a commercial shoot in Dubai, but instead I checked myself into Hazelden. I’ve been clean ever since, though.”
My siblings all murmur support as I get up and give Cooper a hug. “You’re so brave.” I squeeze my brother so hard he grunts. “I love you, Coop.”
On the loveseat behind me, Mari speaks. “I hate Soph’s mother. Griffin’s ex?” I turn to face her, taken aback by the heat in her eyes. “I mean, I really hate her. I hate her so goddamn much! And I know that’s not professional as her former therapist, and I know I’m supposed to respect her as my co-parent and Soph’s stepmom, but sometimes I want to grab that woman by the hair and just drag her around like a ragdoll and then punch her in the face and spit on her crotch as I tell her she’s nothing but a cheap, trashy excuse for a—what?”
We all stare at Mari. Every last one of us, Lauren and Gabe and Dean and Cooper. I’m not sure who laughs first. Maybe me.
I laugh so hard I’ve got tears rolling down my face. At some point, the tears turn to sobs. Cooper rubs my back, making slow, careful circles on my spine. Eventually, I stop crying.
“I love you guys.” I sniffle and take the hankie Mari gets up to hand me. “So much.”
“We love you, too.” Lauren holds me tighter in a side hug. “And we know you love Dal.”
“I do,” I admit, wishing I didn’t. “But I hate him so much right now.” Glancing at Mari, I amend that. “Not enough to drag him around by the hair and spit on his crotch, but?—”
“We must never repeat that,” she says stoically. “That was one of my regrettable, unenlightened moments.”
Cooper’s working hard not to grin. “And we love that you have those.”
I swipe at my eyes, then blow my nose in the hankie Mari handed me. This might actually be a burp cloth or a nursing pad, and I’m thrown right back to my mother’s story.
“You know what’s most upsetting?” I continue before they start guessing. “I told Dal the secret I’ve never told anyone, and he went and broadcast it on national TV.”
“A shitty thing to do,” Coop agrees. “Does he get any points for having his heart in the right place?”
“No.” Except maybe a little. “You guys, I’m so tired of people thinking I’m too young and too fluffy to run my own life.”
Dean frowns. “Who thinks that?”
“Everyone!” I gesture at them and then sigh. “I mean, you treat me like I’m competent. I’m not saying you just humor me by putting me in charge of PR.”
“Lana, you’re the best there is.” Lauren’s eyes narrow. “Is there something that made you think we don’t trust you?”
“It’s not that.” I sniffle again. “At what point can I stop being the baby?”
Gabe looks at Mari. Coop looks at Dean. Gabe looks at Lauren.
Then they all look at me. “Never,” Lauren says, speaking for all of them. “For as long as you live, you’ll be our baby sister.”
“Always,” Coop agrees, hooking an arm around me. “And without you, I’d be the baby.”
“Thanks a lot.” I laugh and slug him in his stupid six-pack abs. “I just—I want to know you trust me to run my own life.”
“Of course we do.” Gabe looks mystified. “As much as any of us are capable of that.”
“We all need each other.” Mari’s smile shifts to sympathy. “I get it, though. You’re saying you want us to treat you more like a grownup.”
“Sometimes.” It seems silly admitting that out loud. “I guess there’s one very grownup thing I’ve been avoiding.”
Dean cocks his head. “What’s that?”
Drawing a breath, I squeeze my eyes shut. “I need to talk to Dad.”
* * *
I findhim on the golf course, naturally. Laurence Judson never misses a chance to play Golden Ridge when he visits this part of Oregon.
“Hey, Dad.”
My father looks up and smiles. “Hey, Lemon Drop.” When he hugs me, he smells like leather and cognac and nostalgia. “What brings you out here?”
Tears fill my eyes as I step back. “I take it you haven’t seen the Jamila Jarrett show.”
He frowns. “Was that today? Your mother mentioned something about?—”
“I’m not biologically your child.” I thought blurting it fast might help, but it doesn’t. With my eyes squeezed shut, I can’t see his reaction. “We’ve never talked about it, but Mom says you know, and I’ve known since fourth grade, and it always felt weird that we didn’t talk about it.”
I open my eyes to see my father watching me. “So we should,” I conclude, pulling up my big girl panties. “Talk about it, I mean.”
With love in his eyes, my father rests a hand on my shoulder. A caddy approaches, but Dad waves him away. “Give us a minute,” he says, and the kid scampers off.
“Lemon Drop?”
My heart twists as I meet his eyes. “Yeah?”
“You have always been my daughter.” The voice that’s graced a million TV interviews rolls over me like a warm wave. “No less than your brothers and sisters. Nothing on earth could change that.”
I swallow hard, hardly daring to breathe. “But it’s not the same, is it?” We’re getting into dicey territory, but there’s no going back now. I have to do this. “Knowing how I came to be? That you and Mom didn’t, um?—”
“Your mother and I have a strong marriage.” He must see something in my face because he smiles a little. “Is it conventional? Of course not. Have there been betrayals on both sides? Yes. Yes, there have. Do we have regrets?” He sighs a little sadly. “Who doesn’t, Lemon Drop? Who doesn’t?”
“Ain’t that the truth.” I swallow hard and force myself to keep going. He’s unknowingly nicked my fresh wound. “Some betrayals feel too big to forgive.”
“Really?” My father cocks his head. “I’ve never found that to be true.”
“How can you say that?” Except he can. He’s standing here talking to the product of his wife’s affair.
As he searches my eyes, I know he’s not pulling my leg. He really believes what he’s saying.
“I’m not a perfect man, Lana.” He shrugs when I don’t respond. “Shocking, I know. And I’m not saying one betrayal cancels out another. That’s not what I mean at all.”
“What do you mean?” I really want to know.
“I mean,” he says slowly, “that forgiveness isn’t about wiping the slate clean and pretending the bad thing didn’t happen. People do bad things all the time.”
“You got that right.” A breeze lifts my hair off my face. Dad tucks it behind my ear, then gently chucks my chin like he did when I was little. “If they didn’t do bad things, I wouldn’t have a job,” I say. “I’ve made a whole career out of putting a positive spin on people’s bad behavior.”
“And you’re very good at that.” He looks deep in my eyes, his great big hand still resting on my shoulder. “But looking bad stuff square in the eye and choosing to decide it’s not the whole picture? That the full picture is a complex mix of good and bad, joy and anger, mistakes and amazing decisions? Being able to see that big picture and accept it for what it is?” He holds my gaze, waiting for me to get it. To fill in the blanks of his lesson, of my life.
“What?” I whisper, not sure I get it. “What is it?”
“That’s forgiveness, baby girl.” He opens his arms, inviting me in. “That’s love.”
I step into his arms, letting myself get snot on his shirt. My dad holds me tight, stroking my back like he has my whole life. This is my father. The man who raised me, who loved me the same as the others, even knowing I’m not quite the same.
But to Laurence Judson? “You’re my daughter, Lana. Always. Forever and ever, you’re my little Lemon Drop.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.” He circles his palm on my back, same as Cooper did a few hours ago. “And I like that young man of yours, too.”
With a sniff, I draw back. “We broke up.”
“Because of what he said on the show?”
I blink. “I thought you didn’t watch the show.”
With a shrug, he picks up his golf club. “I see more than you think I do, sweetheart. And for what it’s worth, he thought he was protecting you.”
Frowning, I watch him take a practice swing. “I don’t need protecting. Especially not that kind.”
“I hear you, and I’m not saying he made the right call.” He takes another swing, whiffing the club through thin air. “Just that he wasn’t dishing dirt to hurt you. The opposite, really. He saw you taking a beating and did what he thought might deflect the blows.”
That doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t, right? “I’m so angry with him.”
“Oh, I hear you on that one.” Dad swings again. “That’s the thing about love. Its flip side can be fury so hot it can burn you up from inside.” He takes one more swing and then turns back to face me. “In some ways, that’s how you know it’s love. Indifference is when you get worried. That’s the opposite of love, but anger? The non-violent sort with a whole lot of passion behind it?” With a shrug, he goes back to swinging. “That’s worth paying attention to.”
Huh. I’m not sure what to make of that. Though given my parents’ history?—
“All I’m saying,” Dad continues, “is that your young man seems like a good guy at heart. Misguided, sure. And he certainly screwed up.” He’s got that right. “But if you love him, don’t give up too quickly.”
I swallow hard, not sure what to do with all these emotions swirling through my chest. “I should go now.”
“Tell your mother I’ll be back in a few hours.”
I start to turn, then stop. “Can you do it?” That might not be fair, but I don’t feel ready to talk with her just yet. “I need more time.”
“Of course.” He catches my hand and looks square in my eyes. “I’m not saying forgiveness makes it all go away, Lemon Drop. But it sure as hell beats holding on to the rage.”
Tears fill my eyes once again, but I blink them back. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too.” He squeezes my hand, then lets go. “Daughter.”