Chapter 21: Work Ahead - Confrontation

 

The next week crawls like cold honey. I clean house even in my dreams. I hardly see or talk to anyone except Fairy Godmonster. Frustrated that her whip can’t help me, she exercises all day and complains about being confined to the attic.

Weasel spends her time cooking and on the telephone with caterers, rental agencies, bakers, decorators and musicians.

Mr. Dudley lives on his cell phone, but somehow keeps track of what’s going on.

Daria stalks me while Godzilla sheds all over the clean furniture. When I ask her to help keep the cat hair off, she tells me that, “Rich people don’t work.”

David works day and night in the barn because everything he orders comes late. John takes turns helping him and me in the stable.

Dad is on his way home and never has time to talk more than a minute. I can’t wait to talk about Mom with him.

I rarely see Claire except the day the dresses come. I’m scrubbing the refrigerator when she runs in from shopping in Salem. “Come in the living room. I want you to see my dress.”

I look at the cleaning I still have to do. Oh, well. It’s not going anywhere. I wash my hands and follow her.

Claire unwraps the wedding dress. The creamy white top sparkles in clusters of rhinestones and pearls that flow in a curve down the long skirt.

“Sweet!” I exclaim. “Oh, Claire, it’s beautiful!”

Claire smiles. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s rude to ask, but how much does a dress like this cost?”

“Forty thousand dollars.”

“For a dress?” I squeak.

“Rhinestones would have been fine, but Mother insisted on diamonds.”

“Diamonds.” I touch one. “You’re lucky.”

“Yes, I am. To find David. Look at the veil.” She opens another box. Inside is a delicate tiara of pearls and diamonds hooked to material as fine as mist.

“It’s perfect for you, Claire.”

She glows. “Thank you. I can’t wait to get married.” She gets a dreamy look on her face.

“Where are you going to live?”

“As far away from my mother as possible,” she says quietly.

“I’m going to tell Mommy,” whines Daria behind us.

“Go do something useful,” Claire tells her.

Daria runs out of the room screaming.

“Brat,” says Claire. “David hasn’t decided where he wants to start his business. Until he does, we hope your father will let us stay here.”

“Dad will jump at the chance.”

She says, “I hope so.”

I blurt, “I’d like having you around, too.”

Claire smiles and my world lights up. “Thanks. Let’s find your dress.”

She sorts through the boxes. Names are written on the outside.

“Here it is.”

“Do you care if I take it upstairs? I need to get back to work.”

She frowns. “If Mother would leave me alone for two seconds, I would help you.

It’s not fair you have to work so hard. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

“Claire!” calls Weasel. She shrugs apologetically and hurries away.

I grab my dress box and run upstairs. I don’t even know the colors of the wedding. Some maid-of-honor I am.

Unlocking the door, I lay the box on the bed.

“Open it.” Fairy Godmonster glides over excitedly.

I pull the tissue paper aside. Remove the hanger.

“No,” I moan. Why do people think pink looks good on redheads?

“Try it,” urges Fairy Godmonster.

I put it on and stand in front of the mirror. The dress looks better on the hanger. The puffed sleeves bring attention to my boobs. The full skirt helps fill out my slender hips, but the dropped waist makes my legs look short. Way uncool.

“Bummer,” says Fairy Godmonster as she turns me around. “That woman has no imagination.”

I throw the dress on the bed in a heap. Fairy Godmonster hangs it in the armoire as I leave.

Trudging back to work, I notice Claire and Weasel head to head, talking. I never miss a mom as much as I do now.

Overhearing the stuff about Claire’s birth mom eats at me. Finally, at the end of the week, I corner David outside. “We need to talk.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No, this is about Claire. Come into the stable.”

David follows me and asks, “What?”

“I overheard Mr. and Mrs. Dudley talking about Claire’s birth mother.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

I frown at him. “Not exactly.”

He sighs. “Okay, out with it.”

“Claire’s Mother is one of Mrs. Dudley’s sisters.”

“What!”

“It gets worse. She lives in this state. You have to tell Claire.”

David starts pacing. “She’s stressed-out enough without having to cope with another mother. It could ruin the wedding.”

“What if she wants her birth mother to come? Is it fair to keep this from Claire?”

Claire walks into the stable. “Keep what from me?”

I stare at David. He sinks against a wall.

She runs to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Claire.” He takes her into his arms. “I love you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what to say,” mumbles David.

“Tell me, please,” coaxes Claire.

He looks into her eyes. “I can’t hurt you.”

“You’re scaring me, David.”

I blurt out, “Would you want to know about your birth mom now?

Silence. Even the horses are quiet.

Claire turns and faces me. “Yes.”

“I overheard a conversation your parents had. They know her.”

Claire turns white and her knees buckle. David holds her tight.

“Why didn’t they tell me?” she asks.

“You’ll have to ask them,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry if it upsets you.” I glare at David. “I know what’s it’s like when people keep the truth from you.”

Claire pulls out of David’s arms. “They won’t keep it from me any longer.” She stalks out of the stable.

David chases after her. “Wait. Let me come with you.”

I’ve never heard anger in Claire’s voice until now. “You might as well, since we’re going to be one big, happy family.”

We follow her into the kitchen. Weasel looks up from the notes she is writing.

“Where is Daddy?” Claire’s eyes shoot sparks.

“In the living room, I think. What’s wrong, Claire?”

“My life, Mother. Come with me.”

Weasel searches our eyes, but David and I say nothing.

We follow them into the living room.

Daria pouts by her father’s side. He hangs up when he sees Claire’s face.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

She takes a deep breath. “I would like you to tell me, right now, who my mother is.”

“I am your mother,” asserts the Weasel.

“My birth mother.”

The fear in Weasel’s eyes when she looks at Mr. Dudley slams into my heart.

“I don’t think this is the appropriate time or place to discuss this.” Weasel starts to walk out of the room.

Claire says, “You know who she is.”

Weasel crumples to the sofa next to her husband.

“Go to your room, Daria,” orders Mr. Dudley.

“I’m in this family, too.”

“Go!” Mr. Dudley scowls at Daria.

She scuttles up the staircase and peeks around the corner.

“How did you find out?” asks Weasel staring at me.

“That is irrelevant. I’m not leaving this room until I know the truth.”

“Not in front of strangers,” sighs Weasel.

“They are part of our family. I want them to hear.”

Mr. Dudley pats his wife’s hand. “You knew this day would come, Erminia.”

Weasel says nothing, so Mr. Dudley starts. “Your mother practically raised her brothers and sisters. They didn’t appreciate her strict ways, but she was determined that they would escape their poverty. She succeeded. They grew into responsible adults, able to take care of themselves. Except for her youngest sister. Miranda was the hellion who fought her sister’s rules every step of the way.”

Mr. Dudley pats his wife’s hand. “When I met your mother, she was twenty-seven, but looked forty. I fell in love with this woman who would give away her youth to raise her siblings. I proposed to her. Then we found out that Miranda was pregnant. She was fifteen.”

I gasp. My age.

Weasel speaks softly. “You have to understand that being raised in Appalachia,

things were very different. We were dirt poor. Miranda’s boyfriend was sixteen and making bootleg whiskey for his grandpa. He disappeared when he found out she was pregnant.”

Tears fall as she whispers, “Miranda wanted to abort you.”

Feeling awful, I watch Claire’s eyes fill with tears.

David grabs her hand.

Mr. Dudley continues, “We got married and told Miranda that we would adopt her baby if she would carry it full term. We gave her everything she could possibly want, except money.

“She made your mother’s life miserable. After you were born, Miranda left the hospital. She sold you for fifty dollars and disappeared. When the police called us, you were almost dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Claire mumbles. She rushes to hug Weasel.

“Your mother stayed in the hospital fighting to help keep you alive,” adds Mr. Dudley.

“Did my birth mother ever try to see me?” asks Claire.

“She called for money,” sneers Weasel.

“Be fair, Erminia. She was only fifteen. After she grew up, she wanted to see Claire. Your mother refused.”

“I never want to see Miranda as long as I live. I will never forgive her.” Weasel stands up and leaves the room.

Whoa. Not knowing the truth about my mom was bad. This is awful. I swallow hard. A wave of guilt covers my heart in darkness.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” David says.

“Where is my birth mother?” asks Claire.

“She lives in Oregon,” replies Mr. Dudley.

“I want to meet her, Daddy.”

He wipes his sweaty brow. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Your wedding is day-after tomorrow.”

“I need to see her. Please make it happen.” Claire strides out of the room.

Mr. Dudley sighs.

David and I leave the room. He says, “I hope you’re happy.” He stomps away.

I drag upstairs.

Daria follows me down the hall to my door. I unlock it.

“That’s a neat key. Can I see it?”

“No. It’s just a key.”

“What are you hiding in there?” she asks, whining.

“Leave me alone.”

“Is that where you locked up Gazella?”

I slam the door in her face, exhausted. My head aches. This is the worst day of my life.

Boy, am I wrong.