Chapter Sixteen

“Ugh, what happened to these lights? They never get this tangled.”

Charlotte gave the strand in her hand a good tug, but the knot wouldn’t budge. She threw them over the couch and grabbed another set from the box.

“That’s because you put them away last year. I always wrap them around cardboard,” Shelby called from the kitchen, where she was busy attempting to bake the walls of a gingerbread house that she would enter in the contest the town held every year at the downtown tree lighting. Like every other year she had entered, it wasn’t going well.

The air in the Crowley-Jackson home was as thick as the eggnog they were drinking. Between the gingerbread, lights, and sugar, the sisters were all on edge.

“Half the decorations are broken. Look.” Tara tipped over the box for Charlotte to see. Glass and plastic balls were crushed beneath heavier ceramic pieces. “Did you put these away, too?”

“If we didn’t buy such cheap decorations, maybe they wouldn’t break so easily. We lose ornaments every year, why are your panties in a twist this time?”

Tara turned away from Charlotte and dropped the box on the floor, likely breaking even more pieces. She didn’t care. Her panties were in a twist, and it was damned uncomfortable. The constant push and pull she felt over Justin grated on her equilibrium, and she felt as tipsy as if she had consumed the entire gallon of eggnog Shelby had set before them.

The kiss on Thanksgiving had given Justin permission to treat her as something—special. His something special. Friday morning, when the store was bursting with customers and Tara thought she would keel over any moment, he arrived with coffee and a sweet, tender kiss that had her spinning as much as the more passionate one the day before.

Saturday, he and Marley convinced her to take a breather long enough to eat soup and bread with them in the breakroom. Convinced the new stove would solve all their culinary woes, Marley showed Tara a recipe she had found for cookie ornaments similar to the clay ones they had made in class. Marley planned to cover their entire tree in homemade decorations. She had looked at Tara with a question in her eyes. Tara braced herself for the invitation to help, but when it didn’t come, Tara felt like a troll, knowing that Marely knew it would be futile.

Tara looked at the bare tree in front of her. That’s what she wanted. Not the cheap ornaments they bought from the dollar store, but the homemade ones she and Shelby had created every year. She wanted her Gram’s nativity and the first clay ornament she had created—a wobbly replica of the farmhouse covered in snow, much like the one Marley had made.

She turned back to Charlotte, who had abandoned the lights effort and was now grimacing at her phone.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t have these ornaments. The ones we should have were carelessly tossed away without thought or feeling, as if they meant nothing to anybody!”

Charlotte didn’t answer, just looked at her with no expression, as she always did when she was lost in thought.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tara’s tone reflected her irritation. Since Charlotte was now reflecting the same expression, Tara chose not to feel guilty.

“I’m giving all my clients notice. I can’t do this anymore. Even working for the few that actually care about words and the power of good literature isn’t worth being connected with the mediocrity that is pouring from the rest. I’d rather have a desk job where at least no one is pretending to be more than what they are.”

The sound of a sheet pan crashing to the floor sent both their gazes toward the kitchen. Shelby stood there with her hands on her hips, her red apron covered in flour, looking very much like Mrs. Claus about to take a group of naughty elves to task.

“The two of you are annoying as hell. Charlotte, you’re tired of associating with mediocrity, then stop. Finish your own flipping book, and stop criticizing everyone else who has managed to do so. Until you have the guts to put yourself out there to be judged, you just need to shut up.”

She turned her angry eyes to Tara.

“And you, dear sister, are just as much of a wimp. There’s this wonderful man who gave up his whole life to raise his sister—a little girl who is probably as lost as we were when we started living on that farm. Only a good man would do something like that. How many of them have we known? And he wants you, but you can’t get your head out of the past long enough to take a chance with him. Stop dwelling on our childhood! Are you going to give up what could be a good future because you can’t deal with the past in an open, honest way? You are just using your hopes for the farm as an excuse, and you know it. And back to you.”

Charlotte moved back a step.

“Don’t even get me started about Brandon. You both have the chance to be happy, but you’re too chicken shit to take it.”

Charlotte found her courage and followed Shelby, who had turned back into the kitchen. “Yeah, well, your walls are crooked.”

Shelby whipped back around. “Yep, they sure are. And the windows are foggy, and half the tiles are upside down, but at least it is all real. I’ll be putting that hot mess on display with all its imperfections and my insecurities along with it while the two of you hide behind your abstract bullshit. Start collecting cats, ladies. They can keep you company when the bitterness and regret catch up to you.”

Shelby turned on her heels and went back to her baking. Neither sister left behind was brave enough to follow.

“She always gets crazy at Christmas,” Charlotte muttered as she left for her room. Tara nodded but stood there and absorbed Shelby’s words. Eventually, she picked up the lights Charlotte had left behind, slowly picking at the knots until they gave way, wishing the knot in her chest would dissolve as easily.

* * *

“Justin, can I talk to you?”

“Of course, kiddo. What’s up?”

Justin smiled at his sister as she sat in the chair opposite him. They’d had a great weekend in spite of the mishaps of Thanksgiving. They were becoming more comfortable with each other, and Justin felt they had finally made a turn in the right direction. Maybe it was the spirit of the season, but Marley was smiling more and brooding less. He still thought she spent too much time on her phone, but he would save that battle for another time. Right now, things were good, and he felt they deserved for them to stay that way for a while.

Marley pulled her long sweater over her knees and toyed with the hem. He expected her to ask for something outrageous for Christmas, which he would happily grant if he could. What she requested instead sent his stomach straight through the floor.

“I want to stop going to counseling.”

Justin blinked, attempting to calm the panic rising in him, or least not let it show. He’d heard similar words before.

“Why do you want to stop going? Do you not like Maggie?”

Marley shrugged. “She’s okay. I just don’t think I need to go anymore.”

Justin’s blood chilled. “I disagree.”

She shot him a look so defiant he thought he felt his head snap back.

“This is my life. Shouldn’t my opinion matter?”

“You’re twelve, Marley. Right now, it’s my job to decide what matters. You are staying in counseling.”

“Why? I don’t need it!”

“Yes, you do, and you might benefit even more if you actually spoke to Maggie.”

Her eyes went wide. “You discuss my sessions with her?”

“Very little. Of course, if you’d talk more, she might have more to share with me.”

“Shouldn’t that tell you I don’t need to be there? I have nothing to talk about!”

“It tells me that you do still need to be there. You’ve sorted out nothing.”

“How do you know? Can you see into my mind?”

“I wish! Then maybe I could understand why you are self-sabotaging.”

“Ah! I am not self-sabotaging, only trying to eliminate something that is a waste of time.”

“It’s not a waste, and you are not quitting. End of discussion.”

Marley balled her hands at her side and made a low grunting sound before screaming, “I hate you!” She turned and stomped from the room as loudly as she could in bare feet.

Justin sat heavily on the couch and ran his hands through his hair. So much for the goodwill between them. He ignored the guilt that attempted to rise for being so harsh with her and concentrated instead on the question of why she would no longer want to go to counseling. He had been too relaxed these last weeks and must have missed signs of her waning interest. He would call Maggie in the morning and talk about increasing Marley’s sessions from once a week to twice. She obviously needed more time, and Justin would not let her give up. Perhaps the family counselor was the wrong choice. A psychiatrist might be more effective.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chirp on his phone. He picked it up from the coffee table to see that it was an email from Marley’s teacher. Assuming it was an announcement about something happening at school, he opened it up.

Justin, I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday night, but I didn’t get a chance to sit down in front of the computer during Thanksgiving. I don’t know if Marley has told you, but we had an issue last week with her phone. She was caught twice last week looking at it during class. We have a no tolerance policy when it comes to these things, and I have to ask that she not bring her phone back to school for the rest of the semester. I have spoken to her before about using it at recess. It is allowed, but I fear it is impeding her social progress. I worry about her continuing to use it so much even now that she’s made friends. Perhaps you could talk to her. I hope the two of you had a good holiday. Thank you for attending to this.

He threw his phone on the table and rose from the couch. That damn phone. He had no idea she had been using it at school. Justin had thought she was using it to shut him out, but apparently, she was effectively shutting out the rest of the world, too. It had to stop. She could not continue to hide behind a screen. If she didn’t deal with reality now, then when it finally came crashing in on her, she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Moving to the stairs with a steely determination, Justin called to her. She didn’t answer. He bypassed the second story, feeling sure he would find her in the attic. He walked through the still doorless entry and immediately saw Marley at the window, looking out with the phone clutched in her hand. She looked small and fragile, miles away from the city-toughened girl who had stopped Fran Jackson in her tracks. The constantly changing personality scared him, and he wished he knew who the real Marely was.

She looked at him as he walked toward her, her face changed as she guarded herself against another fight. He must be a lot easier to read. When he was within arms’ reach, he stuck out his hand.

“Give me the phone, Marley.”

“What?”

“Don’t act surprised. You knew your teacher would tell me about you using it in class.”

“So I won’t take it to school.”

“You won’t have it at all. When you are able to behave normally in society, then we can talk about you having it back.”

Her eyes narrowed. “‘Normally’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you talk—to me, to your counselor, your friends. You can’t hide behind that thing forever.”

“You can’t take it.”

Her distraught voice nearly had him faltering. For the first time since they walked together out of the judge’s chambers when Justin was granted guardianship, Marley looked like she was going to cry.

He kept his voice and his gaze steady, taking the phone from her hand. “I’m sorry, Marley.”

“No, you’re not.”

She looked at the floor as she walked past him, taking care not to get too close. He could hear her stop on the second floor and enter the room she had been sleeping in. Justin expected to hear a door slam. Instead only the click of the old, rusty knob reached his ears, causing his conscience to ache even more.