The First Move Page 28

  She turned a corner as the thought tipped her world on its end.

  If she had not been abandoned as a teenager, then that meant her mother had still loved her, still cared for her. There’d never been a point when her mother had wished she’d never been born.

  Looking back, Renia could wish her mother had been strong enough to take care of her children, but she could also wish for the resurrection of her family. Neither was going to happen.

  Her mother hadn’t abandoned her. Her mother had handed her over to the care of a woman who took an angry, sad teenager and turned her into an emotionally stable adult. Aunt Maria had been magic. She’d welcomed Renia into her home, steered her through the adoption maze and taught her a trade.

  Maybe instead of being angry, Renia should be grateful her mother had cared enough about her to give her up.

  The Stevenson blocked her path forward and the noise of the freeway disrupted her thoughts. Examining her feelings with the rush of cars overhead would be impossible. Time to turn around and face her mother again.

  The house was silent when Renia returned. She eased the door shut and walked through the house to the kitchen, where her mother sat at the same chair. She’d not been sitting there the whole time. The kitchen had been cleaned and she was looking at a page in a photo album.

  Renia put her hands on her mom’s shoulders and kissed the top of her mother’s head. Then she looked at the page her mom had open.

  There were two photos, taken a month before the accident that killed half her family. Her mother had dressed them up and forced them into the car for a drive to Sears. She’d planned ahead; this was going to be their holiday portrait.

  The official portrait, the one her mom had made into Christmas cards that never got sent, had been perfect. She and Tilly had matching red velvet dresses, and Karl and Leon wore matching ties. Karl looked serious, Leon had a mischievous glint in his eyes, Renia looked like an angel child and Tilly was staring off into space. Her father looked stern and uncomfortable while her mother looked on proudly.

  Almost as soon as the photographer snapped that perfect picture, the perfect family collapsed into reality.

  In the portrait on the page facing the perfect Mileks, only her father’s left arm was visible because he had immediately sprinted out of the photographer’s range. Her mother’s mouth was open in admonishment, though Renia couldn’t remember whether she was yelling at her father, or at Leon, who had been pinching both his sisters at once. Karl’s face looked important and too old for childish nonsense, but he’d offered Leon ten dollars to pinch both sisters in the picture. Tilly had overheard and told Renia. They’d both kept a straight face for the perfect Milek picture—no sense giving Leon the satisfaction of a reaction—but as soon as the photographer had said he was done, Tilly had started screaming and Renia had turned to punch her brother. The angle of the shot was spot-on to capture Leon’s pinchers squeezing rolls of his sisters’ flesh.

  “We never talk about Leon,” Renia said, reaching out to touch her brother’s face. He had died just as he was beginning to be someone other than Karl’s chubby little brother. The neighborhood had started to notice he was a good hockey player and he had been asking for a drum set.

  “No.” Her mother closed the album on their memories.

  “Why is that?”

  “If Pawel’s death makes me angry, Leon’s death makes me furious. The only place I can think of Leon without wanting to kill everyone responsible for his death is at church.” Her mother reached for the cross she wore at her neck. “I light a candle for their souls and when I pray, I talk to Mary. I remember that she also lost a child too young and that she, better than God, understands the pain of loss. I tell her how lucky she is to have Leon under her care and how I hope he has grown into the man I knew he could be.”

  A tear fell on the vinyl red cover of the album. Renia didn’t know if it was her tear or her mother’s.

  Renia didn’t attend Mass anymore, hadn’t since her mom sent her away. She envied the peace of her mother’s voice and wondered if she’d find the same serenity in the hard, wooden pews. Tilly didn’t go, either. Of the three Milek children, all raised to be good Catholics, only Karl went to Mass regularly. She’d never questioned his beliefs, but a cynical part of her had wondered if he went for his image. Listening to her mother, she now wondered if maybe he entered the doors of St. Bruno’s in search of their father’s guidance.

  “Do you regret sending me away?”

  “I regret lots of things. I regret that I told Pawel to hurry home after the game. Every day I wonder if an extra two minutes at the rink would have made the difference in their lives.” Two more tears. One was Renia’s. “It breaks my heart your father doesn’t get to know you as an adult. He’d be so proud of you.”

  “Even with Ashley?”

  “Especially with Ashley. You made many poor choices as a child, but since you decided to make good choices, you’ve not made a bad one.”

  Renia scooted a chair close to her mom and sat. They leaned into one another, supporting each other on the old wooden chairs. “I want to get married. I want kids of my own.”

  She felt her mother shift, and knew the news had shocked her. “You, of all my children, have studiously avoided any relationship that would lead to marriage.”

  “No, I—”

  “You never dated a man you could respect, in any intimate sense of the word. You can’t marry a man you don’t respect.”

  She had no defense. Tilly and Amy had accused her of something similar, and she knew it was true. “I was afraid of sharing Ashley’s existence with a man. I was afraid that I would abandon another child.” I was afraid. And scared.

  Her mother pulled Renia’s head closer to her and kissed it. “The world, women, ourselves, we are very judgmental of mothers. The only decision most people understand is the one where the child stays with the mother, even if that isn’t in the best interest of the child.”

  Renia’s shoulders sagged. Was her mother confirming her hopes or her fears?

  “But just because you weren’t the best mother for Ashley when you were sixteen doesn’t mean you won’t be the best mother for another child. Other children.” The motion of her mom’s cheeks on Renia’s head made a scratchy sound with her hair. “I hope you’ll let me care for your children sometimes as a grandma, even if I wasn’t able to fully care for you.”

  “Oh, Mom, I forgive you.” She’d forgiven her years ago, before she knew what she was forgiving. “I know you made the right decision, even if I didn’t always understand it.”

  “Can you forgive yourself?”

  “I do. Finally.” It was more than forgiveness. There were so many other emotions wrapped up in Ashley’s birth and adoption. Shame. Secrecy. Disappointment in herself for being a pregnant teenager. Fear. She’d held on to them for so long, they were like the instruction manuals she kept for cameras she no longer owned. Out-of-date and useless, but just maybe they would come in handy tomorrow.

  All those feelings were gone. She remembered what they were like—there was still the empty space on the shelf where they’d once been—but she didn’t need them anymore.

  They sat in silence, enjoying one another’s company without the underlying tension that had marked the past twenty years of their relationship. The discomfort would probably come back—a conversation wasn’t a magic wand—but for now they were okay.

  Her mother broke the quiet. “What about that man Miles? He seems
nice. You like his daughter.”

  What about Miles? She’d let him into her heart and life in a way she hadn’t thought she’d ever let a man in. That didn’t seem to have turned out well. One small, arguable mistake and he’d tossed her past back in her face. “I like Sarah. I love Miles. But...”

  “You’re not sure he feels the same way about you?”

  “I guess I’m not.” She told her mother what had happened with Sarah and the party.

  “Is rescuing Sarah from a party what made you realize you wanted a husband and kids?”

  It sounded simpleminded when her mother put it like that. “No. I mean, not really. I think it made me realize I didn’t have to abandon my next child. More than feeling in my bones that I made the right decision with Ashley, I needed to know I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.”

  “You’ll make different mistakes.” Her mom chuckled in response when Renia gave her a sharp look. “Every parent makes mistakes, and they make lots of them. We’ve already talked about mine, but you seem to have turned out okay. Miles has probably made mistakes with Sarah—”

  Renia thought about the horrible story of Sarah, Miles, Cathy and the divorce. And the years it had taken them to become a family again. A modern, twenty-first-century family with a divorce, exes and new spouses, but a family just the same. Miles had made a whopper of a mistake, and Sarah seemed to be okay.

  “—and chances are better than not, that she will be a productive, loving adult. You just have to not let the fear get in the way of the joy.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “WHAT DO you mean, Sarah still won’t come to the phone?” It was the third time Miles had called this morning.

  Cathy sighed. “I don’t know what happened at Renia’s, but the first time I told her you called, she got out of bed to lock her door. The second time she turned out her light and said she was sleeping. This time she said she’d call you when she felt like it and for every time you called, she’d add a day onto her, quote, father boycott.”

  “Are you going to let her treat me like that?”

  “Miles.” His ex-wife’s voice was sympathetic and weary, much like it had been the day she’d told him she found someone new. “What did you do?”

  “Cathy, Rey waited until the next morning to call us about Sarah.”

  “So?”

  “So?” he sputtered. “We’re her parents. She’s just...”

  “The woman who drove out to a far suburb in the middle of the night to fetch our daughter from a party because she likes our daughter and she loves you? Is that just what she is?”

  Miles turned on the speakerphone so he could rest his head in his hands and explain to his ex-wife why Rey had overstepped her bounds. Though much of what he’d said to Rey yesterday morning seemed stupid a day later.

  “I’m going to send her a nice gift for what she did” was Cathy’s only response. “Maybe Sarah will help me pick it out.”

  “You’re too nice to be mad.”

  “Oh, Miles.” Why did Cathy sound like she pitied him? “I can get mad if I need to—the process of our divorce was long enough for you to learn that—but I don’t need to. Do I wish Renia had called us? Yes, but I’m more grateful she was willing to be there for Sarah when we needed her to.”

  “I...” Miles wasn’t sure what he was mad at anymore. “Why did Sarah go to the party? She’s never done that sort of thing before.”

  “She’s never been sixteen before. Maybe she’s never been asked. Maybe she heard us arguing about her over the phone. Maybe she hasn’t forgiven me or Richard yet. I don’t know. Sarah and I are going to have a nice long chat tonight, then I’m sending her back to school tomorrow.”

  “Maybe I should come over and talk to her with you.”

  “Fix your relationship with Renia. I’ll handle Sarah.”

  “She really wasn’t hurt?” When Cathy had called him, he’d imagined all sorts of cuts on his daughter’s lovely face and bruises around her eyes—his mind hadn’t been willing to go near what damage might have been done to other parts of her body. Then he’d gotten to Rey’s apartment and Sarah had looked whole and well and all he could think was Why did she lie to us? And all he saw was her sitting next to a woman who’d made an art of lying to her parents.

  Only that wasn’t right, either. He knew Rey’s history and she wasn’t influencing his daughter to be a party girl. She wasn’t a liar, and hadn’t been one as a teenager.

  Since he’d promised her he wouldn’t judge, he’d judged her twice. And she’d done nothing other than be the person she was, rather than the person he imagined her to be. All that counseling during the divorce and he’d still struck out like a wild boar when angry. Rey hadn’t disappointed him; he’d disappointed himself.

  He liked the person Rey was. He loved the person she was. The person she was had bumps, ridges and angles that made her interesting. He wanted to spend his life exploring the person she was.

  “Sarah really wasn’t hurt.” Cathy’s voice jolted him back to the conversation.

  “Good.” Apologizing to Rey would be hard, but he had an idea. “I want to talk to Sarah and I won’t take no for an answer. Tell her I need her help to apologize to Rey.”

  “I’ll try.” Doubt rang through Cathy’s voice.

  “And, Cathy...” He hoped to catch her before she left the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re still friends, right?” Losing his wife had been hard. Losing his best friend had been harder.

  “We’re still friends.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  RENIA SAT IN her car in a parking spot near the dance studio, her hand on the keys still in the ignition, and dared herself to chicken out. “If I drive home, I can buy a new tilt-shift lens with Babunia’s money instead of saving for it.”

  She let the words echo through her car, took the keys from the ignition and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Her self-respect was worth more than a camera lens, even a nice camera lens. She’d keep her inheritance right where it was—in the bank—and face her fears instead. So she might not have a partner. She’d been alone before. This time, she wasn’t alone forever. If Miles wasn’t here like she thought he would be, she wouldn’t give up. She wouldn’t close herself off from intimacy. She wouldn’t abandon her chance at a family of her own.

  The click of her heels on the wood echoed in the empty stairway leading to the studio. Miles hadn’t been waiting on the sidewalk, but she’d dressed up for class for herself anyway. When the coral cotton of her skirt brushed against her thighs, she would enjoy the sensation. If she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she would enjoy the way her back looked in the halter top. The swing of her hips, the elegant line of her arms, the wave of her hair when she turned, it was all for her.

  “You look fantastic,” Miles said, and her heart stopped. He was leaning against the wall outside the studio door, waiting for her. Like she’d trusted he would be.

  “Hello,” she said, keeping just out of his reach.

  “I’m sorry. I behaved boorishly on Sunday. Do you want me here?”

  His hair was sticking up at bizarre angles, he hadn’t shaved, and every time she saw them dancing in the mirror, she’d think about how his shirt clashed with her new dress. “I think so.”

  His answering smile was the mocking one she remembered from Cathy’s wedding. “Rey, you never do give a man solid ground to stand on.”

  “You didn’t have much nice
to say when I saw you last,” she snapped and took a step farther away.

  “It’s our last class. Did you really think I would abandon you?”

  “You take your responsibilities seriously. I knew you would be here. It’s what happens after the class I’m not sure about.”

  Recognition dawned on his face. “I behaved appallingly. You rescued my daughter and I was too angry at her to see straight, and too relieved she was in one piece to yell at her. The bigger question is why are you here?”

  To prove to herself that she could love, and lose, without the rest of her life falling apart. “To dance.”

  “Let’s dance, then.” He didn’t move closer to her, just held his hands out. If she wanted him, she would have to take the next step and come to him. She would have to put some work into refusing to let him go.

  Head held high, Renia swept past him through the door. She didn’t have to look back to know she would hear his dress shoes clomp when he followed her. And his laugh.

  The class hadn’t started yet, but the instructor had salsa music playing as the students came in. Miles grabbed her hand from behind and pulled, spinning her around to face him. She couldn’t help herself, she moved her feet when he said, “One.”

  Her skirt swirled around her legs, wrapping around Miles’s legs when he pulled her close and his pine scent engulfed her senses. As they moved, watching the shifting of his muscles under his red gingham shirt in the mirror, she felt as close to flying as possible with two feet on the ground. He lifted his hand above his head and she spun beneath it, back into his arms. This is what the birds in the Botanic Gardens felt as they skipped through the air. Freedom wasn’t in the escape, but the security of leaving and having something comfortable to return to.