Saturday dawned bright and clear, and the drive to the hotel was peaceful. My mind still churned over the events of yesterday at the cafe, then at home with Erland confessing his part in it all. He was reluctant to say anything, but he justified that he was just looking out for me. "You've got enough on your plate, Kat, you don't need this too."
"This isn't just some secret like hiding your D in Algebra, Erland. This is my life."
The venom in my words still bit even as they echoed in my head. He didn't talk to my after that, not even this morning, but I made a note to find him later to apologize. Maybe Bella would give up his location, since he'd left the house for Wayward (supposedly) even before I had gotten out of the shower.
I parked at the hotel and pulled out my phone to text Andrew, but a tap at the window startled me. Grace waved excitedly through the passenger-side window. I rolled it down.
"Good morning," I said. "Ready to help me pick some flowers?"
Grace nodded, her smile infectious, and was about to open the door when Andrew stepped in front of her. "Get in the back, jitterbug," he said firmly, though with a satisfied smile. "House rules still stand. Eldest in the front."
She climbed in the back and he settled in the passenger side. I pulled out of the hotel parking lot. I was relieved that Grace didn't sense the tension in the car as she spouted off about her favorite color and asking me my favorite color and even inviting Andrew to reply—though he only cared to grunt in response—before I noticed her leg bouncing every while way and the way she chewed her lip raw.
We pulled into the flower shop parking lot, parked, and went in. I ushered Grace forward, pointing out some white rose arrangements that would be very pretty, and turned to Andrew.
"The first thing I want to say is thank you." Andrew's eyebrows arched in surprise at my words, but he didn't interrupt. "You're taking the time from your studies to stay here with Grace just so I can get to know some of my family." He tensed at my words and I winced, but. I didn't take them back. Grace and her father were my family, weren't they? And so was Andrew.
"You don't owe me anything," he said gruffly. "I'm keeping this a secret as much for you as for me."
"Regardless, thank you," I said. He nodded, though he wouldn't meet my gaze.
Andrew gestured over to Grace. "She would be screaming my ears off if we went back now anyway." He made a face, as if he'd tasted something gross. "Sorry, she's a good kid, really, but she can be wilder than my brothers sometimes. Mom's had quite a time with her."
I remembered Andrew's comment yesterday about his and Grace's mom flipping out if she found out what was going on. And Mom's reaction was right in line. When I wasn't mad at Erland—like I was now—I could be like that too, even though I was just his sister and not his mother.
"Maybe she's just missing something," I offered, glancing back to see that Grace had flitted over to the pink and red rose arrangements.
Andrew's face tightened. "We're a family of seven, Ms. Malloy, on one principal's salary, with four of my siblings being under twelve. We're all missing something."
I wanted to respond, but my throat was dry. The accusation in his eyes cut deep—did they just see me as a rich owner of a thriving publishing house? Of course they would. PR had done a great job spinning the scandal after Richard and Octavia were kicked out, and they must have had to present me in some nice light rather than the sobered alcoholic that only published one novel.
"I know." Something in my voice caught Andrew by surprise, but I didn't move to explain, just turned around and started after Grace.
We spent the hour picking through the flowers until we got a mock idea of my bridal bouquet and the flower arrangements that would be at each table. Light pink, blue, and purple set up a dreamy ambiance, especially since we would also be using fairly lights among the centerpieces. We finished early, and walked a few blocks through the city to the catering business that would be covering the wedding. The menu was soon in order—after an ample tasting—and then the caterer asked me about any alcoholic beverages at the service.
I could sense Andrew was watching me closely. Could it be a guilty conscience from participating in parties in college? Or was he hoping I would prove to be the wealthy businesswoman ordering hundred-dollar bottles of old red wine?
I shook my head, and though I tried to smile brightly, I could only force a half, almost sad, grin. "No, thank you."
Andrew eyed me. "Why not?" He gestured to the bottles on the far right of the display. "These right here are worth a semester of my tuition each. Must be far up your alley."
I cleared my throat. "I don't drink," I said. "First, because I'm Christian, but second, because I used to be an alcoholic. Six years sober now."
"My apologies." The caterer bowed, face pink, and withdrew as many bottles as he could carry in his arms. A few moments later, another caterer came by and took the rest. Some kind of hushed scuffle ensued behind the counter, and while Grace seemed to almost fall out of her chair with the strain of hearing it across the establishment, Andrew's gaze was locked on me.
"I-I didn't know," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have—"
"It's okay," I said. "We're all missing something, right?" Andrew's mouth snapped shut at my words. "For me, my fiancé left me at the altar eight years ago. I thought I needed him to be loved, that I needed more, but what I was really missing was Jesus. Money doesn't count for much, at least not for me." I saw the resentful gleam come into Andrew's eyes, and I kept going. "I lost my apartment when I came down here. Almost lost my mom in an accident, then had to care for my high-school-aged brother alone, in Alabama, far from everything I knew. I know what it's like to go through hard times, Andrew, and I trust that God will get us through them all."
Andrew nodded, then turned quickly to Grace. "Hey, jitterbug," he said, "what does that poster there remind you of? Or who?"
Grace burst into a fit of giggles. "Dad?"
Andrew shot her a wink. "He looks rather stern, doesn't he? Too mean to be Dad though."
I turned around in my chair to see a poster of a schoolteacher—or a principal—scolding a student for eating in the middle of class. The dialogue bubble above the student's head shared the student's insistence that the food was too good to leave until lunch.
"Yeah," Grace said with a grin. "Dad only pretends to be like that at school, but never at home. Too bad he works so much. He already missed Jerry's first steps..." She mumbled something else, but her eyes grew bright and she seemed to be overcome by emotion.
"What's wrong?" Andrew placed a hand on his sister's shoulder.
"I wonder if I've missed something new of Jerry's," she said. "Do you think Logan will record it?"
Andrew sighed. "If he's even around after practice, maybe."
"He won't," she said with a pout, eyes gleaming now. "He's just mean enough to do it. A sister wouldn't be so mean." She gestured to me now, and I felt my face grow hot as I was yanked into the conversation.
"We can have our disagreements," I ventured.
Grace looked bothered by my response. "Not a lot, though. We haven't fought since I've been here!"
"That's because you've hardly spoken," offered Andrew. "Take advantage of the time you have, jitterbug, because it may be a while before we see Katherine once we head back north."
That looked like it might make Grace blow up now, but she steadied her tears and wiped her face and straightened. "You're right," she said. Then she looked at me. "We'll keep in touch, though, right? After I go and get out of that reformatory school?"
My throat went dry again, and I could barely find the wherewithal to say "Uh-huh." Andrew didn't even seem bothered by my answer, but a glance from him told me he understood the same thing I did:
As much as Grace's idealistic perspective wanted communication to open between herself and me, that only increased the danger of being found out by her mother or father. A part of me deeply longed to be recognized by my father, to see him, not just catch glimpses of him through the comments of his children—my half-siblings—but I would keep it down. I would. I had enough on my plate as it was. My upcoming marriage, Wayward Publishing, Gramps, and God knows what else would come my way. It was with that thought that I realized that Erland was right after all.
I finally found the words in the middle of my whirlwind thoughts. "We'll work something out, Grace."
YOU ARE READING
Hello, Again (Book 2)
General FictionTwo years after Gramps got put behind bars, Katherine Malloy's life is back on track. With her upcoming marriage to Matthew Burgess and her brother Erland's impending graduation, she has a lot to look forward to. Jesus has a plan for her life, and n...