Night Whispers
Page 13
Sara's own mother had been an abusive alcoholic who didn't care or even notice when her four-year-old daughter began spending most of her time next door with Kimberly and Sloan Reynolds. Seated beside Sloan at an old kitchen table with a white Formica laminate top and stainless steel legs, Sara had learned to draw with fat crayons in the coloring book Sloan was always willing to share with her, and it was Kim who lavished praise on Sara's efforts. The following year, when both girls went off to the first day of kindergarten, they were holding hands for courage and wearing identical Snoopy backpacks that Kim had gotten both of them.
When they came home, they were both proudly clutching drawings with big stars put there by their teacher. Kimberly promptly taped Sloan's drawing onto the refrigerator, but when the girls ran next door to present Sara's mother with her drawing, Mrs. Gibbon had tossed it onto a cluttered table, where it landed on one of the round wet spots left by her whiskey glass. When Sloan tried to explain about Sara's star, Mrs. Gibbon screamed at Sloan to shut up, which humiliated and frightened Sara to tears. But Sloan didn't burst into tears or even look afraid. Instead she picked up Sara's drawing and took Sara by the hand; then she led her back to her own house. "Sara's mommy doesn't have a good place to put her pictures," Sloan had explained to Kimberly in a small, fierce, shaking voice that sounded strange to Sara. Sloan got the tape out and hung Sara's picture next to hers. "So we'll just keep them right here, won't we, Mommy," she decreed as she pressed the heel of her hand hard against the tape to make sure it was secure.
Sara held her breath, fearful that Mrs. Reynolds might not want to waste such treasured display space on drawings Sara's own mother didn't want, but Kimberly hugged both little girls and said that was a very good idea. The memory was etched forever in Sara's mind, because she never again felt completely and utterly alone. It was not the last time Sara's mother caused misery, nor the last time that Sloan interceded for Sara or someone else while she fought back tears and terror. It was not the last time that Kimberly hugged them or consoled them or bought them expensive matching items for school that she couldn't afford. But it was the last time that Sara felt like a helpless outsider in a cruel, bewildering world where everyone except her had someone to turn to and trust.
In the years that followed, their childish drawings were replaced by their report cards and school pictures and newspaper clippings with their names underlined in red. Coloring books and crayons that had littered the kitchen table gave way to algebra books and term papers; conversational topics changed from teachers who were mean, to boys who were hunks, to money, of which there was never enough. By the time they were teenagers, Sloan and Sara realized that Kim simply could not manage money, and it was Sloan who took over budgeting; some of their other roles were reversed as well. But one thing remained constant, even as it deepened and grew: Sara knew she was a valued, essential part of a family.
Given all that, it was understandable that she was shaken by the discovery that there was one enormous family secret to which she had never been privy.
Sara sank down at the kitchen table and thought about how often she had sat at kitchen tables with Sloan and Kimberly. Thousands of times.
Sloan looked over at her friend. "Would you like a sandwich?" she repeated.
"I realize this is none of my business," Sara said, feeling a little like an outsider for the first time since she'd met Sloan and Kimberly, "but can you at least tell me why you kept all that about your father a total secret from me?"
Sloan swung around, startled by Sara's hurt tone. "But it wasn't a big secret, not really. When you and I were kids, we talked about our fathers, and I told you about mine. When my mother was eighteen, she won a local beauty contest and the first prize was a trip to Fort Lauderdale and a week in the best hotel. Carter Reynolds was staying at the same hotel. He was seven years older than she, impossibly handsome, and a hundred times more sophisticated. Mom believed it was love at first sight and that they were going to get married and live happily ever after. The truth was, he had no intention of marrying her or even of seeing her again until he found out she was pregnant, and then his disgusted family gave him no choice. For the next couple of years they lived near Coral Gables, scraping by on what he could earn, and Mom had another baby.
"Mom thought they were blissfully happy until the day his mother arrived at their house in a limousine, offered him a chance to come back into the family fold, and he grabbed it. While my mother was in tears and shock, they persuaded her that it would be selfish of her to try to hold on to a man who wanted his freedom, or to try to keep both his babies away from him. They convinced her to let them take Paris back to San Francisco with them for what Mom thought was a visit. Then they got her to sign a document agreeing to a divorce. She didn't know that in the small print she had relinquished all her rights to Paris. They left in the limousine, three hours after his mother arrived. End of story."
Sara was staring at her, her eyes filled with tears of sympathy and outrage for Kim. "You did tell me that story a long time ago," she said, "but I was too young to understand the… the ruthlessness of what they did and the torment they caused."
Sloan took instant advantage of Sara's own words to press home her point "And now that you do understand, would you want to admit you're related to that man or his family? Wouldn't you want to forget it?"
"I'd want to kill the bastard," Sara said, but she laughed.
"A healthy reaction and honest description of the man," Sloan said approvingly as she put two tuna salad sandwiches on the table. "Since killing him was not an option to my mother and since I was too young to do it for her," Sloan finished lightly, "and since talking about him or my sister or anything associated with that day used to make her incredibly sad, I convinced her when I was seven or eight that we should pretend none of them ever existed. After all, we had each other and then we had you. I thought we had a pretty terrific family."
"We did. We do," Sara said with feeling, but she couldn't smile. "Wasn't there anything Kim could do to get Paris back?"
Sloan shook her head. "Mom talked to a local lawyer, and he said it would cost a fortune to hire the kind of high-powered attorneys she'd have needed to fight theirs in court, and even then he didn't think she'd win. Mom has always tried to convince herself that in living with the Reynolds family Paris has had a wonderful life with advantages and opportunities that Mom never could have given her."
When they came home, they were both proudly clutching drawings with big stars put there by their teacher. Kimberly promptly taped Sloan's drawing onto the refrigerator, but when the girls ran next door to present Sara's mother with her drawing, Mrs. Gibbon had tossed it onto a cluttered table, where it landed on one of the round wet spots left by her whiskey glass. When Sloan tried to explain about Sara's star, Mrs. Gibbon screamed at Sloan to shut up, which humiliated and frightened Sara to tears. But Sloan didn't burst into tears or even look afraid. Instead she picked up Sara's drawing and took Sara by the hand; then she led her back to her own house. "Sara's mommy doesn't have a good place to put her pictures," Sloan had explained to Kimberly in a small, fierce, shaking voice that sounded strange to Sara. Sloan got the tape out and hung Sara's picture next to hers. "So we'll just keep them right here, won't we, Mommy," she decreed as she pressed the heel of her hand hard against the tape to make sure it was secure.
Sara held her breath, fearful that Mrs. Reynolds might not want to waste such treasured display space on drawings Sara's own mother didn't want, but Kimberly hugged both little girls and said that was a very good idea. The memory was etched forever in Sara's mind, because she never again felt completely and utterly alone. It was not the last time Sara's mother caused misery, nor the last time that Sloan interceded for Sara or someone else while she fought back tears and terror. It was not the last time that Kimberly hugged them or consoled them or bought them expensive matching items for school that she couldn't afford. But it was the last time that Sara felt like a helpless outsider in a cruel, bewildering world where everyone except her had someone to turn to and trust.
In the years that followed, their childish drawings were replaced by their report cards and school pictures and newspaper clippings with their names underlined in red. Coloring books and crayons that had littered the kitchen table gave way to algebra books and term papers; conversational topics changed from teachers who were mean, to boys who were hunks, to money, of which there was never enough. By the time they were teenagers, Sloan and Sara realized that Kim simply could not manage money, and it was Sloan who took over budgeting; some of their other roles were reversed as well. But one thing remained constant, even as it deepened and grew: Sara knew she was a valued, essential part of a family.
Given all that, it was understandable that she was shaken by the discovery that there was one enormous family secret to which she had never been privy.
Sara sank down at the kitchen table and thought about how often she had sat at kitchen tables with Sloan and Kimberly. Thousands of times.
Sloan looked over at her friend. "Would you like a sandwich?" she repeated.
"I realize this is none of my business," Sara said, feeling a little like an outsider for the first time since she'd met Sloan and Kimberly, "but can you at least tell me why you kept all that about your father a total secret from me?"
Sloan swung around, startled by Sara's hurt tone. "But it wasn't a big secret, not really. When you and I were kids, we talked about our fathers, and I told you about mine. When my mother was eighteen, she won a local beauty contest and the first prize was a trip to Fort Lauderdale and a week in the best hotel. Carter Reynolds was staying at the same hotel. He was seven years older than she, impossibly handsome, and a hundred times more sophisticated. Mom believed it was love at first sight and that they were going to get married and live happily ever after. The truth was, he had no intention of marrying her or even of seeing her again until he found out she was pregnant, and then his disgusted family gave him no choice. For the next couple of years they lived near Coral Gables, scraping by on what he could earn, and Mom had another baby.
"Mom thought they were blissfully happy until the day his mother arrived at their house in a limousine, offered him a chance to come back into the family fold, and he grabbed it. While my mother was in tears and shock, they persuaded her that it would be selfish of her to try to hold on to a man who wanted his freedom, or to try to keep both his babies away from him. They convinced her to let them take Paris back to San Francisco with them for what Mom thought was a visit. Then they got her to sign a document agreeing to a divorce. She didn't know that in the small print she had relinquished all her rights to Paris. They left in the limousine, three hours after his mother arrived. End of story."
Sara was staring at her, her eyes filled with tears of sympathy and outrage for Kim. "You did tell me that story a long time ago," she said, "but I was too young to understand the… the ruthlessness of what they did and the torment they caused."
Sloan took instant advantage of Sara's own words to press home her point "And now that you do understand, would you want to admit you're related to that man or his family? Wouldn't you want to forget it?"
"I'd want to kill the bastard," Sara said, but she laughed.
"A healthy reaction and honest description of the man," Sloan said approvingly as she put two tuna salad sandwiches on the table. "Since killing him was not an option to my mother and since I was too young to do it for her," Sloan finished lightly, "and since talking about him or my sister or anything associated with that day used to make her incredibly sad, I convinced her when I was seven or eight that we should pretend none of them ever existed. After all, we had each other and then we had you. I thought we had a pretty terrific family."
"We did. We do," Sara said with feeling, but she couldn't smile. "Wasn't there anything Kim could do to get Paris back?"
Sloan shook her head. "Mom talked to a local lawyer, and he said it would cost a fortune to hire the kind of high-powered attorneys she'd have needed to fight theirs in court, and even then he didn't think she'd win. Mom has always tried to convince herself that in living with the Reynolds family Paris has had a wonderful life with advantages and opportunities that Mom never could have given her."
