The Orchard House Read online

  We hung our purses on the hooks in the entryway and I followed Victoria to the kitchen. “Hi, honey.” I heard Lorraine’s voice. “Are the kids taking the late bus—?” She stopped short at the sight of me.

  I stood at the threshold, taking her in. She’d stopped dyeing her hair and it was a gorgeous, sharp gray, cut just at her chin, making her look sophisticated and beautiful at the same time.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her until this moment, hadn’t realized how being here—seeing her—might quite likely be my undoing.

  “So I brought home a surprise . . . ,” Victoria was saying, even as it must have been apparent what the surprise was.

  I gave Lorraine a sheepish grin, and her face crumpled. She placed a hand on the counter as if to hold herself up. That’s when I noticed her painfully obvious flat chest.

  Victoria rushed over to her, but she held a hand up. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  She straightened, stumbled forward a step, but seemed to gather herself. “Taylor . . . it’s really you?”

  I hadn’t expected my presence to mean so obviously much to her. The fact that it did sent my bottom lip quivering. I bit it, hard. “It’s me.” I forced one side of my mouth into a smile, but it didn’t hold.

  Lorraine put her arms out to me, and for a moment, I couldn’t comprehend that she meant for me to step into them, to come to her.

  Seconds must have passed before I realized the arms were intended for me. And while a part of me was scared to drop into them, another part couldn’t bear leaving them waiting, her pale forearms hanging above the counter, veins translucent through skin much looser than I remembered.

  I should have come home years ago, when the thought was nothing more than fancy. But as the years had passed, it seemed crazy to return home and hope for anything. And the possibility of defeat had been too dark of a shadow I couldn’t get out from beneath.

  Now I stumbled forward and fell into the welcoming embrace, tucking my own arms around her, careful not to press too hard lest I hurt some part of her. I closed my eyes as I perched my chin above her shoulder, tried to contain my tears.

  I had once thought an embrace was risky, and in many ways I still did. But here, seeing my mom, knowing her life was threatened, I couldn’t think of a better risk to take. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Sorry for leaving without a word all these years, sorry for taking all she’d done for me for granted, for stealing it and then trying to pretend I could pay it all back with a single bank check.

  She shushed me, and I sank farther into the warm embrace, the scent of her Elizabeth Arden perfume once again taking me back many years.

  “I should have done this all along.” She clutched me tighter also, rubbed my back with her hands.

  A tear meandered down my cheek, warm and vulnerable. All at once, I knew that this was the missing link in my life. All those years ago, I hadn’t realized what I had—I was too busy doubting my place, doubting my rights to such a life.

  Instead, I should have been grateful for the love the Bennetts offered.

  Behind me, Victoria sniffed, and I slowly released Lorraine.

  I swiped at my tear. “I should have called, written, visited, even. I wasn’t angry at—”

  She cupped my face with her hand. “I know, Taylor. I know.”

  I felt Victoria draw back. But I didn’t regret what I said. I wanted Lorraine to know. I hadn’t been angry at her. I’d been angry at Victoria. At Will. At God for bringing an angel into my life and ripping it out so violently, at transferring guardianship to my sister.

  Lorraine wiped the bottom halves of her lids with the backs of her thumbs and straightened. “We have a lot of catching up to do. I hope you plan on staying for supper?”

  I glanced at Victoria, who nodded but didn’t look quite as peppy as before. “Of course she is.” She opened a utility closet on the other side of the wall and grabbed two aprons, threw one at me. “What needs to be done?”

  Lorraine beamed. “Just the salad and setting—”

  The creak of the front door and loud footsteps pounding down the hall interrupted her. “It’s vacation! Woo-hoo!” The footsteps barreled around the corner until I caught sight of their owner—a towheaded boy of about nine who practically plowed into Victoria, throwing his arms around her waist.

  Victoria laughed, ruffled his hair. “Happy vacation, kiddo. How was your day?”

  “Great! We did an obstacle course in gym and I was the fastest!”

  “That’s wonderful, honey. Here, I want you to meet someone very special.” She turned her son around and for a second I felt as if someone had punched me firm and swift in the gut. This kid was the spitting image of Will. A young Will, anyway. I recognized it from one of the slides his parents had shown me when we were dating. I still remembered the snapshot, young boy Will at the top of Mount Washington, hands on his hips as if he’d conquered the world.

  Had Victoria seen the picture? Did she realize the resemblance?

  I shook my head. But of course she did. A wife would know those things.

  Victoria held her other arm out and I forced my attention away from the boy to look at a beautiful young girl of about thirteen. Her features—from blue eyes to prominent cheekbones—were so obviously Victoria’s, but if possible, she was even prettier than Victoria had been at her age. “Maddie, come here, honey. I want you to meet your aunt Taylor.”

  I cringed at the name, saw the girl named Maddie do the same. I stepped forward, even as Victoria’s daughter did not. “Just Taylor’s fine.”

  Victoria couldn’t thrust me on her kids like this and expect them to slap a label in front of my name as prominent as “Aunt,” to force some sort of relationship that wasn’t there. And these kids . . . these beautiful children . . . Victoria and Will’s children . . .

  Victoria’s smile grew tight. “Of course, I’m being too hasty. Taylor, this is Maddie. And this is Caden. Guys, this is my sister I was telling you about.”

  Huh. I wondered how that conversation had gone. “Hey, kids, guess what? You have an aunt I never told you about or talked about. Well, not really your aunt and maybe not really my sister, but she lived with us for a bit when I was growing up and after I stole her boyfriend—your dad—I never saw her again. But now we’ll be one big happy family.”

  Right.

  I stepped forward, thrust my hand out to Caden, who was closer. “Nice to meet you.”

  Caden took it, and something sticky nearly glued our palms together. I fought the urge to snatch my hand back and wipe it on my pants.

  “Aren’t you the writer? The one Mom’s always reading? We saw your books at Target, you know.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah, right on the end. Mom says they save that for the best books.”

  Hey, what do you know? Cute kid. Suddenly I didn’t quite mind his sticky hands as much and even tried not to imagine what the mystery substance was that pulled slightly at my skin when we released the handshake. It was probably foreign and not bodily. One could hope.

  I turned to Victoria’s daughter, offered a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Maddie.”

  My hand hung in the air and I looked at the young teen, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway with smoldering eyes.

  “Maddie Rose . . .” Victoria’s tone held a warning, and her daughter dropped her arms with a sigh, reluctantly held her hand out to me.

  She clasped it for the shortest possible amount of time, then drew away, looked at her fingers, and wiped them on her pants. “Your hands are dirty,” she said.

  I scratched my brow. Throwing her brother under the bus for getting my hands sticky would probably not win anyone over. What did she have against me anyway?

  I decided to try one more time. “You look so much like your mom when we were your age.”

  She shrugged and turned around. “I’ll be upstairs,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Wow, what a peach.

  Victoria patted Caden’s b
ack. “Go wash up, then take some cookies outside while we finish up supper, okay?”

  Caden didn’t have to be told twice. In no time, he was shoving banana oatmeal cookies into his pockets and the screen door was slamming behind him.

  Victoria smoothed her hair. “I’m sorry about Maddie. She’s going through a . . . stage.”

  I tried to brush it off. “I’m sure trying to thrust a new family member onto a teenage girl isn’t easy.” If anyone could relate, it would be her.

  Victoria washed her hands, then reached for a cutting board. “Yeah, but she didn’t have to be so rude. I’ll talk to her later.”

  Lorraine poured a cup of tea, then offered it to me. I accepted. “Tell us what you’ve been up to, Taylor. And don’t leave anything out. Once Victoria found out you were Casey Hood, I bought every last one of your novels. They’re wonderful. You truly do have a talent. I’m so proud of you.”

  I couldn’t help but bask in the words, soak in the fact that the woman I knew as “Mom” was proud of me, that I had in fact found approval from her. I looked at Victoria’s back, seemingly stiff as she attacked a head of lettuce with a long, sharp knife.

  Good. Let her feel. Let her feel pain, if necessary. Enough of this pretending to want a perfect, sisterly relationship. Enough of this “wade through some of the ugly past” stuff as if it were no more than a small stretch of salty water with a few unpleasant pieces of stringy seaweed. No, this was hard stuff. Real stuff. And I wanted her to see that, even if it took a little bit of jealousy to get there.

  “Thanks . . . Mom. That means a lot to me.”

  She glowed. “We’ve missed you, honey.”

  I smiled and nodded but couldn’t quite find my voice to communicate the same sentiment. Maybe because I wasn’t ready, maybe because I still felt I had some penance to pay before I was let back into the Bennett family, maybe because I didn’t know if I even wanted to be let back in, or maybe because in some crazy way, I thought that it might hurt Victoria’s feelings to see Lorraine and me fix our relationship so easily, and maybe I didn’t want to hurt my sister after all.

  Again, Lorraine tucked an arm around me, another around Victoria. “It’s so great to have both my girls under this roof again. Wait until your dad comes home.”

  From within the embrace, Victoria and I caught one another’s gazes. I smiled. We needed peace. At least here, in front of our mother. Whatever simmered beneath could stay there awhile longer or maybe forever. As long as Lorraine didn’t see it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The home-making, the comfort, the sympathy, the grace, and atmosphere that a true woman can provide is the noble part, and embraces all that is helpful for soul as well as body.

  ~ LMA

  Taylor

  I LOWERED MYSELF to the dining room chair, took in the five faces surrounding the table. Paul sat at the head of the table, fully bald but in a striking, Mr. Clean sort of way. He’d been surprised to see me but, like Lorraine, had welcomed me without questions into his strong arms, the scent of Old Spice and leather more comforting than I thought it would be.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised by this unmerited grace from them, and yet I was. For it was one thing to forgive past hurts and move on—it was another to actually move on, to cling to gratitude and to one another’s hands around a dinner table where so much history mingled between us all.

  I didn’t question the holding of hands during a short prayer before the meal. It was like nothing we’d ever done while I stayed at the Bennetts’ as a teen, but it seemed fitting, nice. Paul’s husky voice filled the room as he thanked an unseen God for the food, the gift of life and family, and even specifically for me. When he was finished, I released Lorraine’s and Caden’s hands—no longer sticky—and passed Caden’s plate for Victoria to dish out a piece of lasagna.

  Maddie looked sulkily at the empty place beside her. “Isn’t Dad coming?”

  I’d wondered the same thing but admitted relief when we’d sat down without Will. I supposed I would have to face him eventually. Just like I had to face Victoria and Lorraine and Paul. But Will was different. Sure, I’d seen him that last day in front of the garage, but the night before that we’d walked downtown, grabbed a couple sandwiches at Main Streets, reminisced about the night we first met—a date gone wrong, a sign on the back of a bathroom door, an angel latte.

  How would things have been different if I’d never seen that sign? Would I never have left Concord? Would Victoria and I still be close? Would I never have written eighteen bestsellers? I certainly never would have met Kevin.

  Would things have been better? Or worse?

  I truly couldn’t say.

  And really it didn’t matter.

  But I’d learned one thing: never depend on something good coming from a bathroom prayer. Any prayer.

  “He’s working late.” Victoria dished out some salad beside Caden’s lasagna. He wrinkled his nose and I hid a smirk. He caught my amusement and wrinkled it again, obviously enjoying being the one to elicit a smile from me.

  “Again? On a Friday night?” Maddie slumped in her chair, picked up her fork to spear a piece of romaine.

  “He has that big project due soon, right? For the city?” Paul asked.

  Victoria nodded. “There was some sort of snag last week that set them back. We’ll all be happy when it’s done.”

  I studied Victoria’s rigid shoulders, her downturned mouth. Funny how despite our time apart, I could still read her better than one of her beloved Louisa May Alcott books. And right now I knew—something bothered her. And I didn’t think it had to do with Lorraine being sick or her and me wading through the past. It had to do with whatever was bothering her daughter. If I had to guess, I’d say it had to do with Will.

  I took a bite of lasagna, ricotta and mozzarella and sauce and sausage all melting in my mouth in a display of esculent perfection. “This is fantastic,” I said after chewing. “I—I don’t cook much. Neither does Kevin, but there’s something about a home-cooked meal. Especially one of your home-cooked meals. Thank you so much.”

  Lorraine smiled, finished chewing carefully. “I hope you’ll stay for many more. There’s always room at this table for you, got that?”

  I gave an awkward smile but averted my gaze, grabbed for the honey mustard dressing.

  “Who’s Kevin?” This from Maddie.

  I looked up in surprise. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  “You should have brought him,” Lorraine said. “We would have loved to meet him.”

  I shook my head. For some reason the thought of my two separate worlds meeting caused no small amount of anxiety. “He’s in Denver on business. Maybe some other time.” Before they could ask more questions, I turned to Maddie and Caden. “So what grades are you guys in?”

  Caden wiped his mouth, full of orange French dressing and mozzarella, on his sleeve. Victoria handed him a napkin.

  “Third! And I’m the fastest kid in my grade.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes.

  “How about you, Maddie? Middle school?”

  She nodded. “Seventh.”

  I caught Victoria’s gaze. We’d been in seventh grade when I first moved in with the Bennetts. “Seventh grade can be tough,” I said.

  Maddie shrugged and sighed, twirled a piece of stringy mozzarella around her fork. I wondered if the girl was always this moody or if perhaps she had something specifically against me. Did she harbor resentment over the fact that I’d never been around and upon arrival her mother wanted her to call me “Aunt”? I wouldn’t be so fond of me, either.

  We chatted quietly over the rest of dinner, Caden talking about his plans to build a clubhouse over vacation, Victoria cautioning him that Will would be busy at work and probably not able to help.

  Once our bellies were full and our plates empty, Paul insisted on clearing the table with the kids, leaving me, Victoria, and Lorraine to talk over our decaf coffee.

  The hazelnut roast warmed my insides. I directed
my next words to Lorraine, asking what I’d wanted to ask all through dinner but had felt wouldn’t have been tactful. “So what’s the plan for your treatment?”

  She dragged in a deep breath. “Chemotherapy for probably another five months, followed by radiation, with tons of prayer in between.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “A little tired, but more emotionally than physically. It does my heart good that you’re here. Will you be able to stay for a while?”

  My mind scrambled to think of an answer I wouldn’t later regret. “I booked three nights at the inn. I have a deadline in July, so I do need to make time for that, but . . .” I didn’t want to offer to stay longer if I wasn’t welcome. But I didn’t want to run away too quick again either.

  I caught Victoria smiling at me. I scrunched up my face as if to ask, “What’s so funny?”

  She shook her head. “I just can’t get over the fact that you actually have real deadlines now . . . and you make them.”

  We laughed, all of us, and it felt good.

  On a whim, Victoria grabbed for my hand. I stilled beneath her touch, tried to stop myself from pulling away. “Hey, why don’t you stick around the next week or so if you can? The three of us can hang out, maybe you can get some writing done, and we’re having Jo March Writing Camp over April vacation. Maddie’s attending for the last time. I could use some help and who better to teach a bunch of young writers than Casey Hood?”

  “I—I’m flattered, but I’m not sure—”

  This time it was Lorraine who grabbed for my hand. Her skin felt cool compared to Victoria’s, more loose around the bones than my sister’s. Would she survive? I’d wasted so much time. Blocked out what the Bennetts had meant to me.

  “I’d love it if you’d stay in your old room, Taylor. There’s no need to be at the inn.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t know . . .” This was all happening too fast. Yes, I was glad to be here, relieved for the warm welcome, but to sleep in my old room tonight? “I think I’ll just stay at the inn. I’m only right down the street and—”