The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(30)
It wasn’t long before I was in bed in the room where I’d spent most of my childhood. The shades were drawn. Mom draped cool washcloths on my forehead and then tiptoed out of the room to allow me to sleep.
I knew that once the medication had been given a chance to work, I’d sleep for a couple of hours. Afterward I’d be fine, but reaching that point—the beginning of relief—was difficult.
Soon after my mother left and the horrible throbbing was at its peak, I heard the bedroom door creak open again. Although I was completely prone and my eyes were closed, I knew it was my sister who’d walked into the room.
“You couldn’t do it, could you?” Her words were weighted with bitterness. “You can’t let a day pass without being the center of attention, can you?”
I found it hard to fathom that my sister would seriously believe I’d intentionally bring on a migraine for the sake of a few minutes’ attention. If Margaret had ever suffered with one, she’d know differently. But I was in no shape to argue, so I kept silent.
“Someday it’s only going to be the two of us, you know.”
I did know and wanted so badly to have a good relationship with my sister. If I hadn’t been hounded by pain I would’ve tried to explain how much I wished things could be different between us.
“If you think I’m going to step in and pick up where Mom and Dad left off, you’re sadly mistaken.”
I almost smiled. I couldn’t imagine Margaret doing anything of the kind.
“I refuse to pamper and spoil you. It’s time you grew up and became an adult, Lydia. In fact, it’s long past time you accepted responsibility for your own life. As far as I’m concerned, you can look for sympathy elsewhere.” Having made her great pronouncement, she stalked out of the room.
The sound of the slammed door reverberated through my head. My lungs froze and my heart skipped a beat. With the cool washcloth over my face, it took me a moment to realize tears had dripped from my eyes.
Now more than ever, I was convinced that a relationship with Margaret was impossible.
CHAPTER 14
JACQUELINE DONOVAN
J acqueline checked her reflection in the hall mirror and sighed, praying for patience. Paul and Tammie Lee had invited her and Reese to their home for a barbecue. She couldn’t refuse; Paul would easily see through any excuse. Trapped, Jacqueline had no choice but to grit her teeth and make the best of it.
“Are you ready?” Reese asked for the third time.
Grumbling under her breath, Jacqueline joined him. He was jingling his car keys and pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen door that led to the garage.
“Can’t we get out of this?” she asked, knowing it was impossible.
Reese gave her one of his looks. He had several expressions that spoke as clearly as words, and over the years she’d come to identify them all. This one was the off-center humorless smile that conveyed his displeasure at something she’d said or done.
“What’s wrong this time?” she asked, fuming. “Don’t tell me you’re actually looking forward to this barbecue?” Heaven only knew what Tammie Lee might prepare for their dinner. Grilled possum? Barbecued squirrel?
“Don’t you see?” her husband said. “Paul wants us to get to know Tammie Lee and love her the way he does.”
Jacqueline shook her head in a gesture of denial and frustration. “It’s not going to happen, no matter how many barbecues he insists we attend.”
“The least you can do is give Tammie Lee a chance.”
Jacqueline was beginning to resent Reese’s attitude. Her husband was well aware of the importance of marrying the right person. He hadn’t chosen her because of her cute smile. Their parents were good friends, and she’d attended all the best schools and so had he. Yes, she’d loved Reese, but there was so much more to finding an appropriate marriage partner than love, which in her opinion was highly overrated, anyway.
She feared Paul was fast becoming like his father, with his brains situated somewhere below his waistline. Only Paul had married the girl. If he held genuine feelings for Tammie Lee, then her son should do as his father had and set her up someplace, visiting her once a week. Jacqueline didn’t know the extent of her husband’s monetary investment in his Tuesday-night woman, but she suspected it was substantial. She hadn’t checked his financial records after the first year, preferring not to learn the truth. His absence each Tuesday night told her all she needed to know.
They rode in silence to Paul and Tammie Lee’s house, a respectable two-story near Kirkland with a nice view of Lake Washington. Smoke spiraled from the backyard and Jacqueline suspected they’d already put on the meat. Good! The sooner this family gathering was over the better.
Reese rang the doorbell and together they stood on the steps and waited. Tammie Lee opened the door in bare feet, frayed jean shorts and a maternity top, looking like she’d stepped out of the 1960s television series Petticoat Junction.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she drawled, reaching for Jacqueline’s hands and practically dragging her into the house.
“Mom. Dad.” Paul was directly behind his wife. He shook hands with his father and briefly hugged Jacqueline.
Jacqueline didn’t mean to start the afternoon off on a negative note, but she didn’t think it was a good idea for Tammie Lee to be traipsing around the house barefoot. God knows what she could step on or where she might slip.