Motherhood Without Parole. Tanya Michaels
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edge of sarcasm in the woman’s voice was grating. “I’m not saying she’s logical, I’m saying she’s nearly thirteen. Having barely survived Brittney at that age, I know how moody they can be.”
For the past two years Neve had been polite when she came home, but another female could see the subdued resentment in her clear green eyes. Now, with the introduction of a stepmother and Paul’s arrest, Neve had become so surly and withdrawn that even her grandparents were commenting on her behavior. She probably couldn’t decide whether she was still angry about being sent to boarding school in the first place or pissed that she’d been yanked out of her familiar surroundings. She was likely mad about both, a seeming contradiction that was perfectly reasonable to a girl that age.
“I may not have daughters of my own,” Kate said stiffly, “but I was once a thirteen-year-old girl and am not completely clueless, believe it or not. Look, I appreciate your advice—”
“No, you don’t,” Lily said without heat. She was standing, too, suddenly aware of her defensive stance. Of course Kate wouldn’t appreciate people popping into her house uninvited and unexpected and telling her what to do. Lily wouldn’t either. “My heart was in the right place, though. Those kids mean the world to me.”
“They’re…important to me, as well.” The words came out so awkwardly that it was obvious Kate and the children were in for a bumpy ride. Had the forty-two-year-old career woman ever wanted to be a mother or had she merely made the concession because she’d fallen for a man who happened to be a father?
“I would be the worst stepmother on the planet,” Kate said, “if I came home and followed my original plan—which was a long soak in the whirlpool tub and a cold glass of sauvignon blanc—now that I know the kids are home. I’m not going to insist she open up to me or that we stay up braiding each other’s hair, but I have to say something to her. Why don’t you come, too? I’m sure you want to tell her good-night before taking off, and maybe your presence will keep it from being too uncomfortable.”
Lily appreciated the compromise, if not the subtle emphasis on taking off. “Happy to help in any way I can.” It wasn’t an empty offer but a vow she’d made and planned to keep.
People talked about running away to join the circus, but Neve St. James thought that was a stupid plan. She’d been to the zoo enough times to know elephants stunk royally. And even though she loved horseback riding, stables didn’t exactly smell like roses, either. So the reek factor alone was enough to dissuade her from the circus. Unless it was one of those du Soleil things, she mused, staring up at the circle-patterned plaster on her ceiling. Those circuses didn’t have animals. Then again, she didn’t have any freaky talents like being able to put her feet behind her ears.
She was stuck here.
Her first semester at the Newsome Academy she’d missed home so much she’d wanted to be curled up in this very room. Now that she was, it just felt…odd. What was the point? It had been her mom and dad she’d wanted, not the furniture and carpeting. Even knowing it was impossible, she’d desperately wanted to be a whole family again. Her dad, however, had wanted a fresh start.
She remembered clearly the night he’d shown her the academy brochures, nervous beneath his fake enthusiasm. “Look, you’d get to ride horses a lot there, Neve.”
Like she’d be fooled? There were places in Virginia to ride horses, too. He’d insisted that he’d miss them, that he wasn’t sending them because he didn’t want to spend time with them, but the man was a lousy liar. If he’d done something criminal at work, there was no wonder he’d been caught.
At least he put us in a coed school. All-girl would have been a nightmare.
Though she wouldn’t have admitted to her little brother that she found his presence comforting, she’d been glad he was at Newsome, too. Besides, if they’d been separated, she would have worried about PJ.
Starting at the end of August—barely weeks away—they would be in separate schools for the first time since he’d entered kindergarten. She’d be an eighth grader at a public middle school, while Paul Jr. would go to third grade at an elementary school. Newsome had continued straight through high school, breaking age groups up into different class buildings on the same grounds.
During their weeks in Florida with the grandparents PJ had been uncharacteristically calm about Neve’s no longer being around to look out for him at school. He’d been too busy being excited about being home, being closer to Aunt Lily, making new friends—Neve would miss hers like crazy—and spending time with their father. Ha! Hadn’t her brother noticed that even when they’d visited at Christmas they’d had to wait around for Dad to wrap up “important work” before he took them on whatever promised outing was scheduled? Besides, their dad wasn’t even home. He was in prison. The guy who’d lectured PJ about why playing a good, honest game was always more important than winning and had warned Neve that her active imagination was no excuse for lying…and he’d committed a federal crime! Well, if she had to write some stupid school paper this year on who her heroes were, Paul certainly wouldn’t be mentioned.
Even when he got out of prison, they’d have to share him with his new wife. My stepmother. The word mostly conjured images of evil psycho women from fairy tales. The stories her mom had once read her at bedtime, when Neve had been young enough to think she’d always want her room painted pink. Wonder if the step will let me paint it black? Four black walls might actually be too much, but it would be fun to ask.
Neve had met Kate two Junes ago, when she and PJ had come home for the summer. Dad had thought he was being suave, hinting throughout dinner that Kate, their model-gorgeous guest, was someone special. Unable to take the little suggestions that the kids treat Kate like “one of the family,” Neve had asked outright if her father was getting married. She’d known. She’d known as soon as he’d started talking up his girlfriend before they’d even left the airport. The only girlfriend he’d had since—
She swallowed the painful knot in her throat, redirecting her thoughts to the comparatively easier event of her dad’s engagement. Sensing her father was trying to break the news of an impending second marriage hadn’t entirely prepared Neve for confirmation of her question. Dad and Kate had exchanged glances as he’d nodded, then he’d looked expectantly at Neve, who’d felt like she couldn’t breathe. PJ had appeared equally wobbly. The kid was so small for his age he looked like a baby half the time even when he wasn’t on the brink of tears. Trying to get it together for both their sakes, Neve had asked what they were supposed to call their impending stepparent. No freaking way Neve was calling her “Mom.”
Kate had seemed as weirded out by the idea of being a stepmother as Neve was at having one and quickly assured them that just Kate would be fine. Paul had beamed, apparently thrilled they were already blending as a family or whatever.
What did he know? After all, wasn’t he in jail for something stupid? She wondered if Kate would give her the details if she asked. Aunt Lily mostly just wrung her hands, called the whole thing unfortunate and tried to change the subject. Neve used to be able to talk to her aunt about stuff, but it seemed like Lily and Dad weren’t getting along so well anymore. Neve wasn’t particularly thrilled with some of his decisions, either, but things were bad enough without rocking the boat. She was old enough to know better, but sometimes she just wanted the illusion that things were still close to the way they’d been when Mom was alive.
Footsteps on the stairs and muffled voices told Neve she’d be dealing with her stepmother sooner rather than later. She cast a wary glance toward the closed window. If the situation got desperate, she always had the circus as a backup plan.
Kate sucked in a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. Did twelve-year-olds typically shut their doors? Probably. Kate respected the kid’s right to privacy, but when she’d been this age, all she’d had was a dividing curtain. If Neve kept the thing closed, how would Kate know if the girl was doing drugs or downloading school papers off the Internet or anything else it was Kate’s duty to prevent for the next five months?
On the other hand,