An Unforeseen Turn of Events

Chapter Fifty-One

Christine checked the whole wheat pasta boiling on the stove. Too limp. Overcooked. As she blanched it, the spaghetti sauce began bubbling, sauce boiling over on the stovetop. She managed to turn it off before it burned.

I should've ordered a pizza, she told herself. But they've been doing that way too much lately. She could no longer concentrate on cooking. In the last week, she burned a roast and her salmon turned to charcoal in the oven. Why should cooking spaghetti be any different?

What is Trudy doing now? At least she could make a salad.

As she climbed the stairs to Trudy's bedroom, her mind kept shuffling back to Daniel and Ryan. Both needed her prompt attention but she felt too beleaguered and overwhelmed.

If I didn't have a family depending on me, I could easily have a nervous breakdown, she thought

How could the past come spiraling back full force in a full circle at a time of such anguish and uncertainty?

Christine clung to the stairway railing, and upon heading to her daughter's bedroom, she briefly leaned on the wall for support.

Knocking on her daughter's bedroom, she heard no response

"Trudy? Trudy, are you in there?"

The door opened slowly. Trudy's dark veiled eyes stared out at her mother, her lips trembling, unable to contain her rage.

For a brief moment, Christine forgot about her own inner turmoil.

"Trudy!" she whispered sharply, not wanting to disturb Daniel. "What's wrong?"

Handing to her mother the photo taken earlier that day, Trudy continued staring at her until she said with gritted teeth. "Ryan Monti."

Christine feared her legs would give way from under her. She stumbled into her daughter's room. Trudy closed the door and folded her arms in front of her, making no attempt to support her mother.

Mother and daughter stared at each other, sizing the other one up. One in shock, the other in condemnation.

"How? How could you keep this from us, Mother?' she said quietly. "We always thought our father died tragically or he was a no-good lowlife. But he didn't even know about us?"

Christine was speechless. She couldn't even form the words to ask how that photo could possibly have been taken.

"All our lives we tried to be the best "good little girl and boy we could," Trudy continued, clicking her forefingers in the air, "because someone did something terrible to you and we wanted to prove we were worthy of coming into existence after you had to drop out of college and give up on your dream of becoming a model. But it was you who was selfish and uncaring. You only wanted yourself to look so virtuous and self-sacrificing. And you denied us our father!"

Christine tried to speak but no words came out. She kept looking at the photo, believing that the picture was some sort of cruel joke. Did Ryan tell Trudy he was her father without informing Christine? How could he do that? Was he insane?

Christine leaned her back to the bedroom wall in an attempt to regain her composure. She stared at her daughter's angry, accusing eyes and drew in enough breath to say, "How did you two meet? Did he tell you?"

Trudy's voice was still thick with rage. "He didn't tell me. He came into the creamery while I was at work. A customer was harassing me and Ryan made him stop. We recognized him and Jorge took the picture. . . I overheard you talking with Dad just now."

"That was a private conversation," Christine told her with gritted teeth. She now felt rage about her daughter's eavesdropping.

"It was a conversation that should have been discussed with us years ago," Trudy replied curtly, making no move to back down.