Chapter Thirty-Eight. Grace
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
GRACE
I stare at Lena. Our resurrected aunt.
Our resurrected mother.
This morning, when I mentioned the sheriff searching for Emmeline, I remembered how he called her a real spitfire.
His sister clearly wasn’t the only Callaway who was fond of Emmeline.
Kath said that Em hadn’t been seeing anybody; she swore she would’ve known.
But she also said her brother used to give her best friend a ride home after they did their homework.
What if Em was fooling around with Curtis Callaway?
When the sheriff’s embarrassed or exasperated, he scrubs a hand over the back of his freckled neck. Just like Cooper does. Coop resembles him. (We resemble him.)
“Yes,” Lena says finally.
I glance down at Cooper. He’s clutching Rose’s hand for dear life, and staring at Lena, dumbfounded.
“Surprised you’ve got the guts to own up to it,” Joe (Dad) scoffs.
“I’m a grown woman, Joe. I’m not afraid of you anymore. And I’m not ashamed of my past,” Lena says. (Her past, meaning us. Cooper and I are past tense to her.) “I told Robert that I had twins when I was very young and gave them up. He didn’t hold it against me.”
How terribly modern.
“Ella, honey, could you go upstairs and check on Lou?” Ma asks.
Ella scowls. “What about Rose? Why doesn’t Rose have to go upstairs?”
“No! I want Rose to stay.” I need her.
Rose stares her sister down till Ella goes, sulking.
My heart is beating very fast. I thought—but there’s thinking, and then there’s knowing.
“Is it true?” Cooper squints at Ma. He’s still half blind; he hasn’t had a chance to tape his glasses back together yet.
No one would mistake Ma for a Hollywood film star. She’s been up all night except for that catnap; her face is weary without makeup. She’s wearing a matronly mauve shirtwaist dress and rain boots. Gray is starting to twine through her mousy brown hair.
She glances between my brother and me. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.
But yes, it’s true. Em—Lena—gave birth to you, and then Joe and I adopted you.
I wanted children very much. We tried for years.
It was very hard, being surrounded by girls who were in the family way by chance, without even trying, and their sweet little babies, while I couldn’t have any of my own.
Joe didn’t want to adopt. Not until his own sister fell pregnant. ”
“Fell pregnant!” Joe (Dad) guffaws. “You make it sound like she tripped and—whoops!—here come twins! I think we all know that’s not how it happens.”
“Shut up, Joe,” Ma snaps. “Grace, Cooper, look at me. I want you to know that you were loved from the moment you were born. Even before that. From the moment I knew you existed. You are the biggest blessings of my life, do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cooper says. I nod.
Ma clucks her tongue. “This wasn’t the right way to tell them, Em. In front of all these people, in the middle of this mess. Don’t you think they’ve been through enough?”
“It’s Lena. And it’s my decision, isn’t it? To tell them or not? I’m their mother.”
She says it matter-of-factly. She’s lived with the truth long enough that it’s worn and comfortable for her. But it falls like a shock of cold water over my head, hearing her throw it in Ma’s face. This woman—this elegant, manipulative, scheming stranger—is our mother.
I stare at her, cataloging the familiar features: the long eyelashes (thickened by mascara, they look like Coop’s), the warm brown eyes spaced a little too far apart (just like mine), the long legs (like both of ours). She’s slim-hipped and small-breasted (like me).
I’ve suspected all summer that Ma didn’t carry us. I wanted it to be true because I didn’t want Joe Harrow to be my father. I didn’t want to believe that his cruelty and violence were my birthright.
Why don’t I feel more triumphant now?
“No, Lena. You carried them, and you gave birth to them. I’m not discounting your labor or your heartache.” Ma shakes her head. “But I raised them. I’m their ma.”
Lena scowls. “What else could I have done? Joe beat me for not telling him who their father was. Gave me a black eye and a broken wrist. It’s a wonder I didn’t lose them. And you didn’t intervene. You never intervened!”
“You deserved it,” Joe mutters. “Hussy.”
“I swear to God, if you don’t shut your trap, I’ll shut it for you,” Cooper vows.
It takes a lot to make my brother mad, but he looks like he’d really do it.
“Does Curtis know?” Ma asks. “I was never certain.”
“No. He would have done right by me if I’d told him. But by the time I found out, he was seeing Jane. I was too proud. And he was already deputy sheriff. What was I supposed to do? Stay here, become the sheriff’s wife, and pop out a passel of kids? I wanted more than that.”
Her ambition (like mine).
It doesn’t make any of this all right. But I can understand it.
What would my life have been like as the sheriff’s daughter? Would I be unhaunted and unharmed? I wouldn’t have needed a boy like Stan, because I wouldn’t have needed a ticket out of this house. I would’ve had a father who protected me.
But I can’t see any circumstance where Lena would have stayed around for long. I would’ve traded a loving mother for a loving father.
“You have to understand.” Lena’s brown eyes meet mine. “Joe hated me.”
I glance at the man who raised me. My uncle. His head has fallen sideways. He’s unconscious again. Head wounds bleed an awful lot.
I wonder how long Lena has been planning this moment. I bet it’s played out in her mind like a Hollywood film. She’d reveal her brother for the villain he was, and she’d be the brave heroine.
Did she ever consider our feelings? Were we ever real to her, or only bit characters in her story?
“Let me guess. He said you were disrespectful. Mouthy. Or he was just in a bad mood and needed somebody to take it out on. Any perceived infraction would do.”
Part of me feels sad for the girl Lena was. I know what a bully Joe Harrow can be. I know what it’s like to be a seventeen-year-old girl in this house.
But it’s a real small part of me.
She endured his abuse for less than a year after their dad died.
Anger simmers through my veins.
“He beat you and killed your best friend.” I stand tall, hands on my hips. “So you took that boat out in a storm, faked your own death, and went on your merry way to New York City. You left us behind to be raised by a man you knew was violent.”
“Grace, I…” Lena trails off.
There is no excuse good enough.
“You sent Daisy’s mother money, but when it came to us, you never looked back, did you? Not till now, when you could return as a rich hotelier’s wife. Now that we’re nearly grown, now that we’ve saved ourselves, here you are! And you call yourself a mother?” I say scornfully.
Lena’s eyes fill with tears. “I am your mother.”
“No, you are a stranger.” I point at Ma. “That is our mother. She raised us. She loved us!”
“She let Joe run roughshod over you. She never could stand up to him,” Lena scoffs.
“Shut up! She isn’t perfect, but”—I remember Rose’s words from weeks ago with a new appreciation—“she took care of us when we fell off our bikes and scraped our knees, and when we had the measles. She makes two cakes for our birthday, vanilla for me and chocolate for Cooper, so we’ll each have our favorite.
She taught me how to cook and sew and keep house, and believe me, that’s no small feat, because I have no patience for any of it.
She makes all my dresses. She does her goddamn best. And she stayed. That’s what counts.”
“That counts for a lot,” Cooper says, his voice gravelly. He crosses the room to Ma. Wraps his good arm around her. “Thank you, Ma. For loving us, even if we weren’t yours.”
Cooper waves me over, and I join the embrace.
“You are mine. You’ve always been my babies.” Ma squeezes us till Cooper lets out a little groan and clutches his arm. “I’m sorry it had to come out like this, but I’m glad you know the truth. I guess you’re not babies anymore.”
“They’re almost as old as I was when I had them.” Lena seems constitutionally unable to shut up.
“I want better for them than what you had. Or what I had, for that matter.” Ma seldom talks about her parents. Her mother died of the Spanish flu, and then Ma kept house for her brothers and her father, a waterman who wasn’t home much and drank hard when he was.
I wonder if she ran right from one bully to another (like me).
“We can agree on that,” Lena says magnanimously.
I glance out the library windows and am surprised to find the rain is still pounding, and the trees are still twisting in the wind. I forgot there was a storm going on. I hope Rose’s dad can make it into town.
“Of course, there are some practical decisions to be made,” Lena says.
“What practical decisions?” Rose scrunches up her face, suspicious.
“Well, Joe will go to prison. But if you want it, Martha, the cottage is yours. And your position as head chef. That was my idea, you know.” Lena seems proud of herself. “You always were a marvelous cook … But I would understand if the new circumstances made that untenable for you.”
“Do you and Mr. Thorpe intend to make the hotel your primary residence?” Ma asks.
I hold my breath. I’m not sure I could stomach Lena swanning around all the time.
“God, no,” Lena says. “Robert’s sister wants to stay on in the family quarters. It seems Greeley has some hidden charms.”
Rose grins at that.
“Then I would like to stay on at the cottage, and as head chef,” Ma says. “I can’t see as we need anything else.”
Rose gives a discreet little cough. “College,” she says, when everyone turns to her. “Perhaps you could set up college funds for Grace and Coop, like Father has for me. As a gift from their first mother.”
Lena lights up. “Yes. Of course. We can afford to be generous, can’t we?”
“And Europe after they graduate next summer, like me,” Rose adds.
My jaw drops. I’ve barely let myself dream of leaving the state, much less the country!
“Sure,” Lena says, as though it’s nothing. “I want them to have the world!”