My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter Nineteen

When I was a child, I'd stood before my father more times than I could remember, guilty of some misdeed. Though a long period of time had passed I'd last been in such a position, but the feeling was the same at sixteen as it had been when I was six.

Anna and I stood side by side in front of Father, who had his arms crossed. He'd sent off Katie and Sam with Susan. My mind flashed back to the times I'd stood before him and he'd made sure it was just him and I. It was a kindness of a sort not to scold us in front of the younger children.

"What seems to be the problem?" Father asked, his gaze shifting from me to Anna and then back. In his hand was the balled up paper Anna and I had used. He hadn't smoothed it out yet, though I expected he would at some time. What would he make of Anna's words? Surely, he must know her handwriting.

My mind racing to find the right way to explain without making is seem as though I were pointing fingers, I glanced over at Anna. From the way her hands were curled into fists at her side, I knew she was furious still. She didn't say a word, no doubt trying to work out how to spin our confrontation in way that put me in a bad light.

Father waved his hand to get my attention. "I'm waiting."

"All I did was ask if she wanted to have her beau to dinner," I said, since Anna hadn't spoken up. I didn't even sign the words, since it wouldn't have mattered. Though the last thing I wanted was to be the one telling tales, I wasn't going to let myself feel guilty for speaking the truth. "She didn't like it and she pushed me when I started to walk away."

Father's eyebrow quirked up and he shifted his gaze to my step sister. "Anna? What beau?"

Even though it was rude and from the side I wouldn't be able to understand, I glanced over to see what Anna would say. Her cheeks were flushed deep red, whether from embarrassment or anger was hard to tell. She began to speak, and her hands began to gesture sharply as if to emphasize what she was saying.

It was difficult to gauge just what Father was thinking. His forehead was furrowed and his arms remained crossed. He shook his head once. "Ivy, where did you see Anna's beau?"

"At the dance," I said simply. "She was outside with him after dark."

Again, Father focused on Anna. Beyond him, I saw the bedroom door open and Cordelia stepped out. Had we been too loud and disturbed her? She was in her nightgown with a dressing gown over it.

"What...going on?" she asked, her eyes flicking from person to person. Her expression was one of tired annoyance.

Immediately, Anna relaxed her hands and rushed forward. It was impossible to see what she was saying, but Cordelia's face revealed her feelings about what was being said. She was furious, but not, as it turned out, at her own daughter.

She was furious with me.

"Control your daughter," Cordelia said, her gaze going to Father. "Didn't I warn you?"

Goodness, what had Anna said to turn this situation on me? I lifted my chin, waiting to see what Father's reaction would be. Would he side with his wife and Anna as he had in the past? Or would his sense of fairness, that I'd known as a child, return?

As Father glanced from me to his wife and then to Anna, I felt a small bit of pity for him. To be caught between the three of us was not a position to envy. He had a responsibility to each of us.

"Are you listening?" I saw Cordelia say. Wait, which one of them was she asking? She couldn't possibly mean me, could she? In spite of everything, a laugh threatened to bubble up in my throat at the idea.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose, and his shoulders heaved as though he were sighing. He faced me, and I braced myself for whatever was about to come. "Thank you, Ivy." As he spoke the words, he brought his hand up to his mouth and then moved it out in a familiar gesture. "I've heard enough. You may go"