One More for Christmas(24)

There was a toughness about Samantha that she didn’t remember. She should have been relieved to see it, but for some reason it made her feel even more isolated.

She tried desperately to will the tears not to fall. She stared hard. She tried to relax her throat. She clenched her jaw.

This was terrifying. She badly wanted to be back to her old confident self, sure of her choices and in command of her life.

“You’re very—angry with me.” Her voice was croaky but if she’d expected that to gain her sympathy, it didn’t happen.

“No, not angry. I was angry. I—” Samantha breathed deeply. “I just don’t want you to say the wrong thing to Ella this time, that’s all.”

Gayle panicked. She wanted to promise, but how could she promise when they had differing ideas of what the “wrong” thing was? Gayle seemed to upset her girls even when she was making small talk.

The only safe approach was not to offer an opinion. On anything.

She was going to try that.

“You and Ella are still close then?”

Samantha gave a funny smile. “We’re sisters.”

And you’re both my daughters, Gayle thought. But that didn’t stop you from moving far away without telling me, and not once getting in touch.

“I’m glad you have each other.” She felt a stab of jealousy, imagining all the times they’d probably shared. Birthday celebrations, maybe vacations—“I’m sorry we—lost touch.” She wasn’t going to show how hurt she was that they hadn’t been in contact. Sometimes a parent had to be the one to take the blows and the blame. “I’m glad you came.”

“I was surprised that you reached out.” Samantha hesitated. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

Gayle heard the bleep of the machine, speeding up as her heart rate increased. “I wondered if we might be able to—” To what? What exactly was she asking for? “I want us to see more of each other. Maybe start again.”

Samantha straightened her shoulders. “Start again? What do you mean?”

She didn’t know what she meant. If only a relationship was a computer that you could return to factory settings. She wanted a fresh start. A do-over. The opportunity to make different decisions.

Should she admit that she’d started to question everything?

The thought that she might have made a mistake of gigantic proportions was too big to contemplate at that moment. There’d be time for that later, when she was back on her own in her apartment. The apartment she’d designed, along with her life. Turned out a redesign wasn’t as easy as it looked.

Samantha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the door flew open and a woman flew into the room. She was out of breath, as if she’d run all the way here.

It took Gayle a moment to realize it was Ella.

Gone was the long hair, the wild curls that her daughter never bothered to tame. Instead she wore her honey blond hair in a short, choppy, layered cut that ended at her chin. Her navy blue coat flapped open to show a classic wool dress in a shade of cranberry.

A pressure grew in Gayle’s chest. Her baby. Her Ella. So vulnerable. So kind and giving. A tasty meal for the hyenas of the world to pick on. She’d tried so hard to protect her, and in the end all she’d done was alienate her.

Ella crossed the room to her sister. Samantha met her halfway and they hugged. They stood like that for a moment, wrapped together, a single unit.

Ella pulled away and stroked her sister’s coat. “Love that red. You look wonderful.”

“Is it too much?”

“What? No! It’s perfect. And the white is stunning.”

Gayle lay there, listening, superfluous. An outsider in her own family.

Samantha hadn’t wanted Gayle’s opinion on her outfit, but apparently she wanted her sister’s.

She stroked the sleeve. “Well, you know how I hate black.”

Samantha hated black?

Gayle wore black. Every day. It was her uniform. She hadn’t known Samantha hated it.

Samantha stood back. “I love your hair that length. Suits your face shape. It’s better than the bob.”

Ella had once had a bob? When?

They talked, words flying to and fro, a verbal game of tennis in which each player knew the rules and was comfortable with each other. Gayle wanted to say Hello, I’m over here, but she was too busy registering the change in Samantha.

Gone was the tension, the stiffness, the wariness that had filled the room the moment she’d walked through the door. Instead she was relaxed and comfortable. Warm.

She took Ella’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

Gayle wondered what it was that required such a visible gesture of support, and then realized it was her. She was the threat in the room.

“Hi, Mom.” Ella walked to the bed and gave a nervous smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I mean, you’re our—” Ella paused and then gave a brief smile “—mother. What happened?”

“I fell. I was holding an award.” That stupid award. Pride had quite literally come before the fall.

Did they even know about the award? She’d been up there on the stage, applauded by thousands. She’d given a speech on empowerment and designing her life. Her daughters hadn’t even known. They weren’t impressed. “It hit my head as I fell.”