Alice was one of the two women who sat across the cafe table from each other, holding hands and praying over their food, and studying the Bible together. They'd been there the last three Tuesday mornings, and although they were very kind and polite to her, Alice had never made any indication that she'd known Gia.
Yet if what Phoebe said was true, that Alice had kept track of them all these years, then Alice had certainly known who Gia was as she bustled around the cafe. In fact, Alice's presence at Ricardo's might have been because Gia worked there.
What was going on? And who was the woman sitting with her? It couldn't be Angela, could it? Wouldn't she have told Juliette if she was back in town? Wouldn't Juliette have warned the rest of them?
No, there was no way it could be Alice's daughter. The other blonde had looked older than Alice, her hair more gray than blonde, the lines around her eyes and mouth delicate, but definitely there. So a sister? A friend from church? Gia couldn't help feeling as though she was missing something, like once again, she was standing on the outside listening in. It made her feel like a little girl again, and she was so tired of feeling like a child.
She sat rigid, her eyes fixed on the top of Alice's bowed head, while Cal said a short prayer of thanks for the food. "Father, we invite you to share our meal with us and be a part of our conversation here, guiding our words and our thoughts as we share our hearts tonight."
"Are you all right?" Cheryl asked, leaning close to Gia as soon as Cal had said his amen.
Gia, however, had just about had it up to her eyeballs with secrets. What was wrong with being truthful? Genuine? Real? She patted Cheryl's hand reassuringly without taking her eyes off Alice. "I know you," she said, skipping the niceties. "You've been coming to my work every week. Every Tuesday this month. Were you there to see me? Spy on me?"
Suddenly, Gia wanted there to be any other reason for Alice to be sitting at the corner table at Ricardo's each Monday morning. If the woman told her she went there because theirs was the best coffee in Midtown, or that the tables weren't sticky, or that they went there for the gingerbread scones, Gia would have accepted it, at least for the duration of the meal they were about to share. She just wanted to be done with the relentless barrage of revelations that kept crashing into her these days.
But when she saw the way Cal looked at his wife, followed by the deep breath Alice took—the kind of breath that always preceded an unloading of some kind—Gia felt herself moving, scooting her chair back from the table, before she'd even made the decision to do so.
"Why? Did Angela put you up to it? Have you been keeping her apprised of how I'm doing?" Stop, Gia. Please, a tiny voice pleaded inside her head. But the words kept coming, an angry swarm of stinging insects. She turned to Cheryl and cupped her chin none too gently, turning the girl's face toward Alice. "Have you told her about my newest sister yet?" And then the final blow. "She's another victim of Angela's wild ride, did you know? Because my mother was Cheryl's godmother."
"Gia!" Ren began, her shock almost tangible. "Honey—"
"No," Gia interrupted with a snarl. "I am so tired of all the lies, of all the secrets, of all the ulterior motives. My God, this family is built on half truths and secret societies. We even have our own secret sister club. The Gustafson Four. G-FOURce," she said, her tone mocking. Her next breath caught in her chest, and for a moment, she thought she wouldn't be able to release it. "Oh. Wait." Her words came out almost strangled. "I guess I'm not really a Gustafson, am I?" Turning to Cheryl, she said, "But I'm not really a Wiley, either. At least, my father—my namesake, no less—didn't think so."
"Oh, Gia," Juliette's whisper drew her attention. There were tears slipping down her oldest sister's cheek.
You can't fix this, Jules. "Excuse me," she said, her throat tight. "I think I need some air."
Gia stumbled a little as she shifted her feet out from under the table, catching one on a chair leg. Cal, ever the gentleman Phoebe claimed he was, rose politely when she did, and started to circle the table to help her. She shook her head. "I'll show myself out." Then she hurried from the room, doing her best to ignore the shock and concern on every one of her sisters' faces. She didn't look at Phoebe's Cerulean as she passed through the foyer and closed the front door carefully behind her. If she hadn't just given them enough to go by, a slammed door would only prove that she was still the baby of the family.
Wasn't this exactly the same way she'd behaved at their last G-FOURce meeting? Toward Ricky last week? Jupiter? Even toward Cheryl and her grandparents not more than a few hours ago? Temper tantrums and ultimatums, lashing out with cruel, hurtful words? Storming out of the room?
Why? What had finally popped loose in her? Uncorked? It was like everything was coming to a head all at once.
Was this what growing up was like for everyone?
"Dang it, dang it, dang it!" she railed at herself as she stalked down the sidewalk, grateful for her heavily-treaded combat boots. With all her might, she willed herself not to cry. She was almost as tired of crying as she was of secrets, so instead, she berated herself harshly in an attempt to keep her anger stoked. "You're such an entitled little baby. Who said life wasn't supposed to be hard, Georgia Amity Gustafson—or Wiley, or whoever you are? What makes you think you get to live in Candy Land, following a gumdrop trail lined with lollipop trees and rainbows and—and... custom coffee drinks?" She smacked her hand against the trunk of a jacaranda tree in full bloom planted in the parkway so close to the sidewalk, the roots were beginning to buckle the concrete. "Owww! That hurt!" But to her surprise, as she stood there clutching her hand to her chest in misery, a shower of bright blue-purple trumpet flowers fluttered down around her, a nearby street lamp illuminating the moment as though the scene had been staged.
Like Queen Frostine on her ice cream float while candy sprinkles rained down on her in the middle of the Ice Cream Sea... in Candy Land.
Gia snorted. Then she snickered. Okay, maybe it was more of a maniacal chortle, but at the moment, she'd take that over stupid tears any day.
With her uninjured hand, she reached up and shook a low branch that arched over the sidewalk, lifting her face to the flower shower, and breathing in deeply of the faint fragrance hovering in the air around the tree.
Finally, lest someone peer out the window and think she a candidate for the loony bin, she brushed several of the slightly sticky blossoms from her clothes and hair, and started off down the sidewalk again, this time at a much less aggressive pace. She wasn't ready to face the lot she'd left at the dinner table in the Masters' dining room; she really did need a few minutes to clear her head before going back. A walk to the end of the block and back might do her good, and even though it was full on dark now, the street was well lit and the neighborhood seemed friendly enough.
It was true, though. Life wasn't lollipops and rainbows and Venus Risings. It wasn't unicorns and fairy tales and happily ever afters. If there were happily ever afters, then Maman and Papa would still be here. John would still be alive and Phoebe wouldn't have lost her Lily. Angela wouldn't be haunting them from prison and Alice wouldn't be stalking them for her, either. Colleen wouldn't have gotten cancer, George wouldn't have died from a broken heart, and Gia would have known her sister... her whole life....
But then none of them would be who they are today, would they? Juliette might have gone off to college and the great beyond with her friend Sharon, never to return. She'd never have gotten pulled over by Vic for driving like a duck, that's for sure. What about Tim, who had loved John like a brother, whose love for Ren was all the more remarkable because of it? Phoebe might not have met Trevor so that he could face his demons, so that he could then pray for her for fifteen years before finding her again.
And Gia wouldn't be a Wiley and a Gustafson. In fact, being more than a decade younger than Jules, Ren, and Phebes, it was quite likely she wouldn't even be their friend, much less a part of the Gustafson Four. At best, they'd think of her as their mom's friend's snot-nosed brat... if they thought of her at all. She wouldn't have grown up in Gramps and Granny G's loving home, quite likely not in Midtown at all, since the Wileys had lived in another city because of George's job. She might never have met Ricky.
Ricky, who was maybe even more awesome than a unicorn, truth be told.
Maybe life was a little like Candy Land after all. Sure, there were sludgy molasses swamps and dive-bombing bats in black licorice castles. But there were also gumdrop trails to follow—accompanied by grandparents who'd rerouted their own path to give the Gustafson girls a home—and lollipop woods—where sisters danced arm in arm and chanted silly pledges and called each other empresses.
And rainbows? They appeared when the sun shone through falling rain, right? Evidence that even in the middle of the storm, the sun—the Son!—still shined. A symbol of God's faithfulness, of his promise never to abandon his people even when the waters rose and hope seemed lost.
She turned and walked backwards a few steps, gazing down the block at the Masters' home, at Ren's SUV parked out front—which meant her sisters, all four of them, hadn't abandoned her either—and at the lights beckoning from several of the windows.
The Ark. She could almost imagine a rainbow arching over it.
She stopped in her tracks and whispered, "Help me, Jesus." In that one plea was all the things she wanted to say, but couldn't manage to put into words lest she start bawling her eyes out. Help me forgive my parents—both sets of them—for abandoning me. Help me trust that you, God, won't abandon me, too. Help me love without fear—Ricky, Jules, Ren, Phoebe, and Cheryl. Help me trust you, God, that you do have a plan for me and my future, just as you promise. Help me to never set aside my rose-colored glasses—no, my rainbow-colored glasses—so that I won't ever stop seeing the gumdrops and lollipops and sprinkles along the way.
She knew her prayer would have sounded a little childish to anyone who could hear her thoughts. Candy Land references? What adult did that? And yet, Jesus did teach that his followers were to have the faith of a child, right? Not to be simple-minded or childish, but teachable, and humble.
Humble. Gia sighed as she started her trek back the way she'd come.
Time to eat some humble pie.
The thought of Ricky out there somewhere, thinking about her and praying for her tonight, bolstered her. She pulled out her phone and thumbed out a quick text.
You are way more awesome than a unicorn.