Chapter 15

“Relax, darling.” Holden took my hand. We’d been sitting at the gate for almost an hour waiting to board. Our flight was scheduled to depart soon. It was about time.

Time . . . that was the operative word. Five years and nine months, to be exact. That’s how long it had been since I’d seen anyone from my family. Which I was sad about, except when thinking about my mother. It wasn’t as if we quarreled or didn’t speak to each other. No. We simply left each other alone. I flew home for Christmas my freshman year because that’s what you’re supposed to do. What a disaster! At least for me. She wouldn’t stop nagging me. Implied I thought myself better than everyone else because I was studying at Harvard. Every moment of those two weeks she made me feel as if she really didn’t want to have me around. So, I didn’t go back. Which I felt bad about because of Dad, my grandma, and Aunt Jane—but to be honest, they could have gotten on a plane and visited me. But Dad had no time, Grandma was afraid of flying, and something always got in Jane’s way. They didn’t even come to Boston when I graduated. Which basically meant I wasn’t important enough. Whatever. At some point I stopped asking, and we got by with phone calls. I even talked on the phone with my mother sometimes—for birthdays, or when Grandma was in the hospital. Mostly, though, our conversations since I’d arrived in Boston were all small talk. Telling my mother that I was getting married would be a surprise. She’d known for a while that I was with someone, but she’d neither asked about him nor seemed particularly interested anytime I mentioned him. But now, in October, five months after Holden proposed, I couldn’t keep the secret any longer.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcement started, “your American Airlines flight to Seattle is now ready for boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready.” My pulse quickened.

I took a deep breath before getting up to join the line. Holden put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my hair. “Relax,” he repeated. “It’ll work out.”

To be honest, I didn’t know why I was so tense. My mother no longer played a role in my life—at least not an active one. She had no direct influence on me, my life, or my decisions. I’d have married Holden even if she declared him the spawn of Satan. I was merely informing her of my decision—in person, as was proper, and not over the telephone. That was all. Yet, I was as nervous as I had once been sitting before a university admissions interviewer with the power to decide my fate. Or, at least, seriously affect it. I was still six hours by plane away from my mother. If I was this tense now, how would I feel when I finally stood in front of her? At first, I didn’t want to admit the thought but . . . but perhaps it was important to me to have my mother bless my decision. Perhaps, for once in my life, she would be proud of me. How crazy was that? After so many years and everything that had happened, all the hurt and rejection, I still yearned for her recognition. Her love.

“Actually, you should be the tense one, and I should be trying to calm you,” I said to Holden when we stood in baggage claim in Seattle. “After all, you’re about to meet your parents-in-law.”

My hands trembled when I tried to lift my suitcase from the conveyor belt.

“Let me do that,” he said calmly, taking the suitcase from me. Then he pulled me close, looked into my eyes, and placed his hand on my cheek.

“You know we don’t have to do this.” He smiled. “Just say the word and we’ll be on the next flight back to Boston.”

What a tempting thought!

Though in my mind I screamed Yes, yes, let’s just take off, I shook my head. “No. We’re going through with it. Dad is probably already waiting outside to pick us up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes—now stop asking before I change my mind.”

Holden smiled crookedly. “OK.”

I saw Dad as soon as we headed to our meeting point. His hair was thinner and slightly gray at the temples, but he still had that winning smile. I rushed straight over and flung my arms around him.

“Hello, Little One,” He greeted me lovingly and kissed my cheek.

“Hello, Dad.”

I detached from him with moist eyes and turned to Holden, who was patiently waiting.

“Dad, this is Holden, my . . .” I swallowed. I almost let my fiancé slip out.

Simultaneously smiling and sizing up Holden, Dad extended his hand.

“Holden,” he repeated as if greeting an old business partner, “delighted to meet you in person.”

I was startled. “In person?”

“She doesn’t know?” Dad asked, laughing when he saw the confused expression in my face.

“I called your dad and asked him for your hand,” Holden explained. “I got his number from your phone,” he confessed.

Wow! I was bowled over. And deeply touched.

Suddenly, I felt so relieved. “Well, now that the cat is out of the bag.” During the entire flight, I had tried to figure out how I’d tell my parents. All the better if they already knew.

“We’re getting married,” I said, extending my left hand on which the diamond sparkled.

“Does Mom know?” I asked as Dad admired the ring.

“Yes, I told her.”

“And?”

“She’s delighted,” he said.

I shrugged. That was more than I could hope for. Plus, now I didn’t have to deal with her unfiltered reaction. She had had plenty of time to adjust.

“So, you permitted a total stranger, whom you only talked to on the telephone, to marry your daughter?” I asked jokingly as we walked to the parking lot.

The one-hour drive from the airport to Lakewood was over too soon for my taste. Once I was standing in front of my mother, I was even more nervous than I feared.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Annie,” she greeted me exuberantly and pulled me into her arms.

I stiffened reflexively. A kind of compulsive defensive posture. Then my body seemed to vaguely remember something, and I consented to the hug.

“This is Holden. My . . .” It was like jumping a hurdle to make the word cross my lips, “my fiancé.”

“Delighted to meet you, Holden.”

I could only look on in astonishment when she hugged him. Which self-discovery seminar had she attended this time? Make Peace Between Yourself and the World?

“Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Blazon.”

“Call me Ruby. And come in. I prepared Annie’s room and put on fresh bedding. You can take your things up if you’d like. Dinner is in an hour.”

“OK,” I answered a little disconcerted and went up to my old room with Holden.

Strange, how out of place you can feel where you had grown up. As if your former home had become a sort of museum in which one must not touch anything unless explicitly permitted. I left all my things in the suitcase and put nothing in the closet. I didn’t even put my toothbrush in the bathroom. I left everything in my toiletry kit and took the whole thing to the bathroom when I went to freshen up.

“Your parents seem really nice,” Holden started cautiously.

He knew how my mother and I were with each other, what my childhood was like, and how we had parted last I saw her. I almost felt betrayed by his comment. As if he suddenly didn’t believe what I had said about her. Or, at least, as if I had exaggerated.

“Hmm,” was all I said, letting it slide. What he had seen and heard from my parents so far, especially my mother, really had made a good impression. But we hadn’t gotten beyond a friendly greeting.

The table was set when we went downstairs. I couldn’t believe my eyes, lasagna—my favorite. She’d even made a salad with the little croutons on top that I liked so much as a child. I had to admit she’d made an effort.

When I saw a car drive up, I forgot for a moment how alienated I felt and rushed to the door.

“Grandma! Jane!” I greeted them exuberantly, squeezing them in turn.

“You’re all grown up,” Grandma said, wistfully patting my cheek.

“She’s a Harvard grad after all, Mom,” Aunt Jane said. Her voice clearly told how proud she was of me. “And soon to be married,” she added as her look wandered over my shoulder to Holden. Pure radiance spread across her face.

Did everyone here know Holden had proposed? I would have liked to tell Grandma and Aunt Jane myself.

“Not bad,” my aunt said after giving Holden the once-over.

“So, you're the young man who wants to marry my granddaughter?” Grandma always had been very direct.

“Yes, I am,” Holden replied, holding out his hand.

I almost had to laugh as she stood next to him—at least a foot shorter, supported by Aunt Jane, and with a suspicious look in her eyes.

My mother trilled “Supper is ready,” effectively ending my grandmother’s examination. Holden seemed to be relieved.

“Well, tell,” Aunt Jane said after we were sitting at the table. “How did you get to know each other?”

After a quick glance at Holden, I decided to tell the whole brutal truth. Starting with my constipation and ending with Holden making me blush with embarrassment with his Hi on Facebook Messenger.

Grace was right—the story of our first meeting was a howler. Aunt Jane shook with laughter, and the others were thoroughly amused. The ice was broken, and the meal and the rest of the evening took place in a humorous atmosphere and peaceful harmony.

Exhausted by the long day and jet lag, Holden and I fell into bed shortly after midnight. I was almost asleep when he placed his head next to mine on the pillow. While he looked at me, he gently brushed the hair out of my face.

“Why do you think it’s like that?” he gently asked. “I mean, between your mother and you.” I could tell from his question that he’d been wondering all night about that.

I turned on my back, stared at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. I’d pondered this question more than once in my life.

In the end, I’d arrived at the following conclusion, which I shared with Holden: “I think the way we come into this world is characteristic of the way we lead our lives.”

Holden leaned on his elbow and looked at me. “What do you mean?”

I tried for a moment to think of how I could best explain this abstract thought, which had manifested after many years of riddling.

“My mother almost bled to death at my birth.” I swallowed hard. “For some reason she didn’t go into labor, so the doctors decided on a cesarean. Something went wrong. To this day I have no idea what. She needed emergency surgery when they had barely pulled me out. She was taken away. So, when I was only a few minutes old, I was separated from my mother and placed into a bassinette.”

I could tell from Holden’s look that he was trying to understand.

“My mother has always seemed to be moving away from me, leaving me,” I tried to put it into words. “The more I try to be close to her, the farther away she seems. I don’t stand a chance.”

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

I forced my eyes open. “You’re already awake? What time is it?” I croaked.

“Almost nine. I couldn’t sleep, so I helped your dad in the garage.”

“What?”

“He had a problem with the fuel injection on his Corvette, but we figured it out,” he announced proudly.

“That’s great,” I answered with a yawn, then pulled the cover over my head. Nothing new there. Dad had always spent late nights working at his shop, and on Saturday morning he rose at the crack of dawn to fiddle with his own cars. Often, he hadn’t been approachable for days until he finally had solved the problem. It probably was a blessing to have a mechanical engineer in the house with whom he could share his musings. Holden, naturally, was eager to help his future father-in-law.

“Now get up.” He good-naturedly pulled the cover off.

“No,” I protested.

“Come on. Your mom’s making breakfast. Maybe you can help her.”

I gave him a steely look.

“I thought you two could talk a little. Maybe it’ll do you both good.”

I reluctantly sat up and combed my fingers through my messy hair. “If I have to,” I said. “But let me shower first.”

“Good morning.” My mother stood in the kitchen beating some eggs in a bowl.

“Good morning,” I said. Whenever she was nice to me, my voice immediately took on a skeptical undertone. Experience had taught me that her being nice was usually the proverbial calm before the storm.

I quietly cleared my throat. “May I help?”

“Yes. You can set the table.”

She’d rearranged all the dishes in the years I’d been gone, and this increased the feeling I had of being out of place in a familiar space. I had to keep asking where to find things. Opening the cupboards and drawers seemed intrusive—almost as if I were rummaging in her purse. I was so slow that my mother probably would have preferred setting the table herself. I felt better when Holden and Dad came back from the garage joking with each other and covered in motor oil.

“You’re right on time,” my mother said.

Dad gave her a kiss. “We’re just going to wash up.”

I watched them with astonishment. It wasn’t easy to win Dad over. He just wasn’t the buddy type and normally kept to himself. He also saw through falseness pretty quickly. But with his open and welcoming nature, Holden had managed to win his affection quickly. Probably not in the least because he had the gumption to ask a total stranger for his daughter’s hand. He didn’t have to, but it showed old-fashioned decency to ask my father for permission.

“What are you up to today?” my mother asked when we sat down at the table and she served the scrambled eggs. “Are you going to visit your old friends?”

“Yes, we’re going to meet Corinne in Portland around one.” I turned to Holden. “She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

We still talked regularly, so she knew plenty about Holden and me.

“Corinne Mason?” my mother asked.

I nodded. It was just like her that she had to confirm the name of my former best friend. That’s how little interest she had in me—or, rather, had had? I didn’t really know because the way she acted since our arrival last night, you’d think she had done a complete U-turn during the almost six years I was away. I looked at her intensely. Is this for real? Had she really changed? Did one of her seminars or some self-searching effort really bear fruit? Or was it only for show? Was she being nice to me for Dad’s sake or to show Holden that I alone was responsible for our strife? If so, she was successful. Holden seemed to be trying to reconcile the Ruby from my descriptions with the Ruby who was refilling his coffee. He repeatedly cast me a glance as if to say: Was this woman really as bad in your childhood as you claim?

I should probably have been happy that this meeting, about which I had been so worried, was going so harmoniously. But something deep inside warned me to be cautious.

Don’t let her hurt you again, my inner voice said.

“What?” I asked when I noticed I was being addressed.

“Do you want more coffee,” my mother asked frowning, holding up the pot.

“Um . . . no. Thanks.”

“Have you set a date?” she continued the conversation she seemed to be having with Holden while I was lost in thoughts.

“Not yet,” he answered. “But we’ve decided on autumn.” He took my hand and squeezed it.

“Yes,” I agreed. “We were thinking early September next year.”

“Oh, September is beautiful. That’s when your dad and I married.” When he didn’t react, she gave him a slight nudge in the side.

“Hmm,” Dad grumbled as he drifted off in thought again. Probably back to the fuel injection for his 1977 Corvette.

“You’ll get married in Boston, I presume?” Her voice was far too high for a harmless question.

“Yes,” I answered. “All our friends and Holden’s family . . .”

She snorted briefly. “Well, then we’ll just have to fly to Boston.” It sounded as if she thought it an imposition.

“Yes, I guess you will,” I said, picking up on her wording and tone.

She raised her eyebrows. “No reason to get snippy.” Her mood changed from one second to the next. Even Dad awoke from his fuel-injection daydream and looked back and forth between my mother and me. He was all too familiar with situations like this. He’d had to play the buffer between my mother and me hundreds of times to keep us from fighting.

When my mother realized he was watching her, she put on a smile. “I’m just saying.” She had control of her tone again. “Your family is in Lakewood after all.”

“But my life is in Boston now,” I said politely but firmly.

“That’s just the way it is,” Holden interjected, trying to defuse the situation, “so many more people would have to make the trip from Boston to Lakewood than the other way around. More than eighty percent of our guests will come from the East Coast. And wouldn’t it be nice for you to see where Annie lives? We can show you the town then.”

My mother snorted again. Holden’s arguments were plausible, and she couldn’t really object. But I knew her well enough to know that wouldn’t change her opinion one iota. Basically, she was only bothered by having to come to me rather than me coming to her—the way it’s been all my life. But if she wanted to be at our wedding, she’d have to get off her ass and literally take a step toward me. Holden’s percentages made no difference. It wouldn’t have mattered even if she were the only one who had to get on the plane. There was a reason she never visited me in Boston.

“Of course, we’ll pay for the flight and hotel,” Holden added.

I almost laughed out loud. That was the worst thing he could have said. He’d obviously misinterpreted her hesitation and thought it was about money. It surely must have played a role—I mean it wasn’t as if my parents could afford much luxury—but what Holden had just said with good intentions bordered on sacrilege.

My mother’s look confirmed my suspicion. An imperious How dare you flashed at us from her eyes. “You think we can’t afford it?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Holden didn’t quite know what was happening. “No . . . I only meant we’d be happy to make it our treat.”

Dad put his hand on my mother’s arm. “He didn’t mean it that way, dear,” he said in a conciliatory tone.

“Oh, he did,” my mother insisted and fixed on me with her ice-cold green eyes. “What did you tell him? That we’re broke? That we’re paupers who can’t even afford a miserable flight?”

I vacillated between laughing and crying. She was back—my real mother.

“Ruby,” Dad attempted to avert fate, but it was too late.

“Just because the two of you studied at Harvard,” she said in a tone so dismissive that I almost took it as a personal insult, “doesn’t give you the right to think you’re better than us.”

I glanced at Holden. I wanted to say, “May I introduce you? This is my real mother.”

“You’ll see soon enough that Ivy League isn’t everything in life.”

I frowned and swallowed despite my tightening throat. “I never said that.”

I felt Holden’s eyes rest on me, then he closed his hand around mine, telling me with this small gesture that he understood, that he was by my side, that I’d never be alone. I knew he was there for me and that he’d protect and defend me—even against my own mother. I almost broke down in tears.

“Thank you,” I whispered when only he could hear it.

“I love you,” he whispered back, holding my hand even more firmly.

Corinne shook her head when I told her about the incident that day. We had driven to Portland immediately after that ever-so-lovely breakfast to visit her and her artist boyfriend, Damien.

“Some things never change,” she said with a shrug, putting her arm around me. “Let’s change the subject. How long are you staying?”

“Just the weekend. We’re flying back tomorrow.” What devil was riding me that I wanted to spend two nights in Lakewood? It was completely predictable this would happen.

“We’ll phone, alright?” Corinne said as we hugged goodbye. “We’ll see you next September. Then we’ll party.” She hugged Holden, too. “Great to finally meet you,” she said before hugging me one more time.

“See you soon, Annie, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I love the lot of you,” Corinne’s artist mocked us, wrapping both of us in his arms.

“Stop it!” Corinne snarked at him. He looked worried when he saw she had tears in her eyes, he pulled her close.

“We could just fly to Boston one of these days,” he suggested. “I’ve got an artist buddy in New York. I’d like to see him again. We could make an East Coast trip of it.”

“Really?” Corinne’s eyes widened. “That’d be fabulous.”

“You can visit us any time,” Holden added.

Corinne and I grinned blissfully while we were mentally running through our calendars. We agreed on February, only four months away, which would give me something to look forward to in the winter.

After visiting Corinne, we dropped in on my grandma, who offered us limp cookies and weak coffee. The time had come to return to the dragon’s lair. Just one dinner to get through, I told myself. Then we’ll be gone.

When we arrived at my parents’ house, we were received as warmly as the day before. Dad must have had a talk with my mother. But as much as she tried to put on a friendly, relaxed tone—even Dad chimed in with something occasionally—the evening wouldn’t get going. Holden had learned his lesson by then and decided to cover himself. There was no more than some polite conversation.

“Well, I see you have no interest in civil conduct,” my mother concluded from the evening—and probably the entire weekend—when we helped her clean up the kitchen.

I answered with a quiet sigh.

“Annie, when is our plane leaving?” Holden asked though he knew perfectly well.

“Just after seven thirty.”

“That’s early. Let’s get to bed so we don’t oversleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes,” I said meaningfully and exhaled. “It’s been a really long day.”