Beginning, Previous Section, Section VIII, Next Section
It was fortunate for Darcy that the manager of K-Bowl had had more than his share of run-ins with George Wickham, otherwise everyone from Planet Earth Pizza might've wound up banned for life due to Darcy's well-timed punch. As it was, the manager took one look at George's sprawled body and threw a glass of ice water on him. George woke up quickly, looked at who was standing over him, and darted off without saying a word.
"Just don't go hitting anyone else, okay?" the manager said before returning to the front desk.
Charlie had gone to the bar to get some ice for Darcy's sore hand, and once everyone who remained had returned to the lanes where Jack and Chazz were waiting, the game started.
"I can't believe we missed seeing you punch George," Jack said ruefully. "I would've paid good money to see someone hit him."
"I've had the pleasure twice," Charlie told him as she handed Darcy the ice wrapped in a towel. "It was wonderful."
"Yeah, but you actually hit him. You and Darcy should have shirts made. 'I punched George Wickham----and it was fabulous!" Chazz suggested.
"I'll give it some thought," Darcy said as he put the towel on his swollen knuckles. "I don't know if I'm up to bowling tonight."
"Just granny the ball," Jenna told him. "I don't think anyone's going to be keeping score tonight."
"The hell we're not. Darcy Williamson one, George Wickham, nothing!" Charlie laughed. "Or should that be, right fists everywhere two, George nothing?"
"I'd got with the second one," Jack said. "It has a better sound to it. You're up, Elisabeth."
Elisabeth had been trying not to stare blatantly at Darcy, with little success. She couldn't figure out why he'd been the one to hit George. He was George's friend, wasn't he? He'd been quoting George's opinions of everyone at the store since he arrived. She wasn't even sure he liked her.
So why did he do it?
"Earth to Elisabeth Bennet!" Chazz called. "It's your turn, El!"
"Oh, sorry." Elisabeth absently picked up her ball, positioned herself, walked up, and threw it. Instead of a neat, smooth roll down the lane, however, the ball popped out of her hand and landed with a heavy thunk on the lane, then headed for the gutter.
"It slipped," she said, frowning. She turned around and shrugged.
"That's okay, El, you'll do better on the second try," Charlie said.
"Of course." Elisabeth stuck her hand over the air blower, although her hands were dry enough. She glanced at Darcy for a brief second, and found that his eyes were on her. She quickly looked down again as her ball reappeared. I'm not going to think about him. He is Charlie's ex-boyfriend and I somehow don't think she'd appreciate it if I swooped in when it's only been a day. She might not ever appreciate it, so it would be better if I just forgot all about him.
She picked up the ball and marched back to the lane, not bothering to do anything. She threw the ball and watched as it zipped down the lane, making contact with seven pins. She heard the others cheering behind her, so she turned, made a quick bow, and walked back to her seat.
Darcy stood up, setting the ice aside. "Maybe I'll bowl left-handed," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
"It's the only way any of us would stand a chance against you," Charlie said. "Where'd you learn to punch like that, anyway?"
Darcy grinned sheepishly. "You don't have a name like 'Darcy' without having to learn to fight," he replied. "When I was younger, I was always having to defend myself, which meant fighting. I got sent home from school twice because of it."
"I thought you went to schools where a name like Darcy was practically required," Jenna said. "A school where boys were named for their great-great-great-grandfathers and half the first names sounded like last names."
Darcy's eyes went hazy, lost in thought, before refocusing on the group. "Not when I was younger," he said. "When I got older, yes, I did go to prep schools and my name wasn't such an issue." Not wanting to continue the conversation, he picked up his ball with his left hand and thought about how he was going to compensate for having to use his weaker hand. He called, "You guys might want to head to the other side of the bowling alley, because I'm likely to lose my grip on this and sent it hurtling your way."
"Run! Possessed bowling ball headed this way!" Chazz announced. Darcy had been about to make his approach but had to stop, doubled over with laughter.
"You're not supposed to be distracting him, you know. He's on your team!" Charlie pointed out.
"Sorry about that, Darcy! I had to do it!"
Darcy straightened and looked at the pins at the other end of the lane. He threw his ball, which went straight into the gutter from his hand. He sighed and walked back to wait for his ball. "I think you're right, Charlie. I'm going to have to granny it, because I never had to learn to bowl left-handed."
"Maybe you should take it up if you're going to be punching people," Jack said. "What was that all about, anyway?"
Everyone was staring at him. Darcy felt the blush creeping onto his neck but couldn't think of a graceful way out of the situation.
If he were honest with himself, Darcy would say that the reason he'd punched George was because he'd insulted Elisabeth. Darcy hadn't sorted out his feelings for her yet, didn't even know if he would be able to do that anytime soon, as a matter of fact, but that was the main reason. The problem was, that reason wasn't one he could discuss with these people. First off, Elisabeth was among them. Secondly, so was Charlie. So the situation was hopeless. He had to bluff his way through.
"He was being a jerk," Darcy said. "It was one way to shut him up."
"But I thought he was a friend of yours," Jenna said accusingly.
" I have no idea who said that, but I don't think I would consider him a friend. And after this, I doubt he considers me one, either." Darcy's ball reappeared and he picked it up. "He was around when I talked to Sean, then offered to come over to my place the day I'd interviewed with Elisabeth to give me an idea of what to expect at the store. That's really the last time I saw him until today when he showed up for the meeting."
"Okay, guys, let's stop giving Darcy a hard time. He came to Elisabeth's rescue, for which he deserves praise, not the Spanish Inquisition," Charlie said.
Darcy gave her a grateful look, although he could tell she was as confused about it as the rest of them. He turned back to the pins, waiting for him to throw the ball at them, and sighed. His father would be laughing his head off if he could see his son preparing to throw the ball with both hands.
Just as he let the ball go, an image flashed in his mind. He didn't notice the ball rolling slowly to the other end as he let the memory invade his thoughts.
His mother wearing his father's bowling shirt, kneeling just behind the line, pushing a pink bowling ball with both hands. His father's friends were laughing, but his father just stared at his mother. Darcy couldn't figure out what was so fascinating about Mom, but she had Dad transfixed as her ball continued to roll. The ball only hit one pin on the far right, but Mom raised both hands in victory anyway. As she stood up, brushing off her knees, Dad went over to her and gave her a big kiss. Dad's friends were whistling and howling."All right, knock it off, you bozos," Dad said, still holding onto Mom. "My Amy's just starting out. Pretty soon, she'll be one of the best among us."
"Even you, Ron?" one of the other men said.
" I did say one of the best," Dad retorted, to more laughter.
Darcy dimly heard cheering from his friends as the image faded. For the first time in a very long time, he had a vivid image of what his mother had been like. He had other memories of her, of course, but they were the usual memories one would have of his or her mother----doing motherly things. This was the first memory he had of her as being something other than his mother.
"Darcy!" Charlie shouted. "I think he's still a little stunned that it happened."
"How are we supposed to beat someone who can pick up the spare while grannying the ball?" Jack asked.
Darcy looked to see that all of the pins had been knocked down, and he smiled. "I can't believe I just did that!" he exclaimed.
"We're sunk," Chazz said, and he was right.
Darcy stood on his balcony, enjoying the balmy night air. It was cooler tonight than it had been in the past few days, which had brought a pleasant surprise. Charlie had warned him it was a brief respite. Enjoy it while it lasts, then, he told himself. Charlie had also warned him that Illinois summers were usually hot and muggy. Throw in the already hot temperatures in the kitchens, and this summer was bound to be hell.
Darcy flexed his right hand, which was still sore from where he'd punched George Wickham. The first thing he'd done when he got home was to get a fresh towel of ice to put on it, but he knew he'd be suffering the effects of it for a few days.
He'd just gotten off the phone with Ginger, who had had more good news to report. Her job was going quite well, she'd said, and she sounded even happier than she'd been before he'd left New York. She asked about Charlie and was disappointed to hear that their relationship had ended. Ginger had asked why and had commiserated when he told her a half-truth about not having any spark.
"I've been in a couple of relationships where there's been no spark. I stayed in them because they were good guys, but good can only take you so far." Then she'd added, "On the other hand, guys who offer the zing can break your heart so fast you don't know what's happened until they're gone."
Which made Darcy contemplative as he stood on his balcony. Should he have ended it with Charlie? Should he have convinced her to hang on to what they had? Was the feeling he got when he'd looked at Elisabeth just a zing he should ignore?
He hadn't told Ginger about Elisabeth, because explaining her would've meant telling Ginger everything. Besides, there wasn't much to tell.
Darcy heard a loud knock at his front door, startling him out of his enjoyment of the night. He turned to go back into his apartment, shutting the balcony door behind him. Whoever was at his door was getting impatient, knocking again, louder this time. Darcy wished his apartment had an peephole so he could see who was on the other side, but it didn't. Praying it wouldn't be George Wickham, he hesitantly opened his door.
Elisabeth Bennet was standing on the other side of it.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi." She looked as uncomfortable as he felt. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." He stepped aside to let her walk in. She didn't gawk at anything, which surprised him until he remembered that she'd already seen the place. "Uh...what can I do for you?"
"I just came up here to say thanks for stepping in with George. I really appreciated it."
"You're welcome." Darcy expected her to leave right after saying that, but still she stood in the middle of his living room. "Would you like to sit?"
"Sure," she said, sitting on the same couch that Charlie had occupied just last night.
Charlie. Remember Charlie, and how hurt she would be if you gave any thoughts to her cousin.
"Would you like anything to drink? Soda, tea, coffee?"
"Water," Elisabeth said. "I tried to drink a glass of water, but Charlie kept giving me milk. I've already had more than enough milk today."
"One water coming right up," Darcy said, scurrying into his kitchen to get her a glass of water. He handed it to her and sat down.
"I've been trying to figure out something, and maybe you could help me," Elisabeth was now saying.
"What's that?"
"Why did you do it? Why did you hit him?"
"Didn't you hear me earlier? He was being a jerk and it was the best way I could think of to shut him up. He was getting annoying."
"You could've called the manager. He would've thrown him out."
"But I didn't know that at the time. Hitting him seemed to be the thing to do. It's not like he didn't deserve it, right?"
Elisabeth smiled. "Of course I'm going to say it was right. Did you think otherwise?"
Darcy sat in his favorite chair. "I hope you don't get offended by this question, but why were you two together in the first place?"
She shrugged. "The usual reasons people get together, I guess. Some sort of mutual attraction that lasted for a brief while then flamed out in rather spectacular fashion. He was in your part of the world last winter when the Company was doing a set of commercials featuring real Planet Earth Pizza employees."
"I remember those." Georgiana had come up with the idea and had been heavily involved with the project. He wished she'd never thought of it, because it had led to all her troubles.
"He was supposed to be featured in two commercials, and he was excited. They even did some filming on them, but then the woman in charge decided he wasn't handsome enough for the commercials. If you look at the commercials, you would think everyone who works here is a perpetually perky toothpick with a bright smile."
"So he was dropped."
Elisabeth nodded. "Dropped and told that he could return to the sticks. He got paid for his time, but that was it. Just enough to buy that red truck he's so proud of. When he returned, he was so upset at the whole experience because he thought this was going to land him all sorts of future endorsements and begin a promising career. Instead, he was back here doing the same thing he was before. He was upset and he needed someone to talk to. I would always drop by here after I got off work at Newton to talk to Charlie, who was working nights then. It sort of led to me talking to George while Charlie finished her work, which led to our brief relationship. It's funny, because once the relationship started, we stopped talking. It's like we couldn't be lovers and friends."
"Do you miss that?"
Elisabeth shook her head. "Not really. Before he left for New York, I thought George was a cocky little twerp. It wasn't until after we broke up and I lost my store that I realized he hadn't changed a bit. Besides, we never talked much about me and my life. It was always about him."
Darcy chuckled. "That sounds familiar."
"Let me guess. A parade of girlfriends who could double for opera singers?"
"Yes. My sister was telling me last week that with the exception of Charlie, all my girlfriends fit into the same mold----tall, beautiful, brainless."
"I've dated a few brainless guys. More than a few, actually. How many women have there been in your life?" Elisabeth asked casually.
"How many women?" Darcy asked hesitantly. "Do you mean girlfriends?"
"Yeah."
Darcy's brow furrowed in concentration. "I don't know how to answer that question. Most of them were either young carbon copies of my aunt or were specially picked out by her, so remembering one in particular might be difficult."
Elisabeth's eyebrows rose. "You let your aunt choose your girlfriends?"
"She's chosen everything in my life since I was ten and she became my guardian. If I'd had my wish, I'd probably be a bum." Darcy had to scramble to remember what lies he'd told about his presence here before adding, "Maybe that's what I am now. A bum, but a happy and free one."
"Did you have any dreams before she got her hooks into you?" Elisabeth asked.
"Yeah. I wanted to be the first King of America. Barring that, I wanted to be a professional wrestler."
"What?" Elisabeth laughed, trying to picture Darcy with his chest bare in a pair of wrestling tights. When her image got a little too graphic, she decided that it was due to the baby driving her hormones batty.
"I was ten. Hulk Hogan ruled when I was ten."
"Yeah? I liked the Macho Man, but only because he seemed like the romantic type. He was always so considerate of Miss Elizabeth--well, until the storyline ordered him not to be. But up until then, he was my favorite."
Darcy chuckled.
"So how many aunt-chosen girlfriends have you had?"
Darcy counted them in his head. "At least fifteen."
"Did you go out on more than one date with any of them?"
"Those were the ones I did take out more than once."
"Were any of them serious?"
"Define 'serious.'"
Elisabeth wiggled her eyebrows, and Darcy blushed, realizing what she meant. He nearly swallowed his tongue. "That's..."
"None of my business, I know. It's not what I meant, either. I meant any woman you've cared about, maybe even loved, for a good length of time. Tell you what, I'll even start. My first serious boyfriend I had when I was thirteen. Joey was on the eighth-grade basketball team, one of the brainless ones. I let him cheat off of me in math class so he'd still be eligible to play."
"How long did this relationship last?"
"The length of the basketball season, which wasn't that long. Effingham isn't known for having a great basketball team. Now it's your turn. Who was your first girlfriend?"
"Drucilla Ashbrook. I was sixteen, and she was a year younger. She was the daughter of one of my aunt's associates."
"Was she as cold as her name sounds?"
"Pretty close, but I was confused then. All my friends had girlfriends, so I had to have one, and Drucilla was one of the prettiest girls I knew. It lasted all of three months, which is when her father was transferred to London."
"Long distance, the true killer of many relationships, although maybe not. My friend Eve met her husband over the Internet, and he's from Colorado. He was willing to move here to be with her." Elisabeth took another drink of water. "My second boyfriend was Aaron Dilford, who was a very nice guy. A terrific guy, the perfect guy, except for one thing. He was having an on-off relationship with Bonnie Pinette, my lifelong enemy. They're still together, and every so often, Bonnie comes in here to throw that fact in my face. And every so often, when they've split up, he stops by looking to hook up with me."
"That sounds like a healthy relationship."
"I stopped taking him up on it a long time ago, when I realized he was never going to give her up. I didn't need the hassle."
"That's good----for you, anyway." Darcy thought for a moment. "My next girlfriend was Whitney Thurmon, when I was nineteen. She was another of the arranged girlfriends, but a nice one. We're casual friends."
"Have any of your girlfriends been special?"
Darcy considered the question. "Yes. Tally Winchester, four years ago. She was pleasant and fun to be around, and I thought of marrying her. Then my aunt decided I was ready to oversee her interests in Japan for six months. While I was gone, Tally...ran into an old boyfriend and married him."
"And she's the only special one?"
"I did think I might marry her. And I never blamed her for what happened. You can't predict who you're going to meet one day on the street."
"Did you aunt choose Tally for you, or did you choose Tally?"
"Tally was a journalist." He hoped that would be enough to answer Elisabeth's question without having to reveal more about his life. And it certainly seemed to, because Elisabeth nodded.
"Okay. My next boyfriend was Jake Finnegan, and he was something else. I was seriously in love with him. We were together for two years, from nineteen to twenty-one."
"What happened to him?"
"He transferred to Northwestern. I finally decided to get my cosmetology certificate and went to Lake Land. We wrote for a few weeks but decided it was probably best to break up. I was heartbroken."
"Who decided to break up? You or him?"
"It was mutual. Then, to get over him, I made Grand Mistake Number One. But first..." She pointed a finger at him.
"My third girlfriend? Elizabeth Elliot."
"The name sounds better than Drucilla and Whitney." She grinned.
"You would think so," he chuckled. "Unfortunately, she was the worst of the lot. My 'grand mistake,' as you would put it."
"Social climber?"
"The worst. She threatened to sue me for palimony when I told her it was over, even though we didn't live together and the only thing I paid for when we dated was dinner and theater tickets."
"Did she go through with her threat?"
"No. My aunt..." Darcy swallowed. "She stepped in and I never heard from Elizabeth after that."
"Your aunt again," Elisabeth murmured. "Okay. Grand Mistake Number One was Frank Churchill. He was totally hot, but he was a real jerk. He treated me badly. He didn't want anyone to know we were dating, and then, just when he said he'd tell everyone, I found out he was dating another girl all along."
"Did he hit you?"
"God, no! I'd have left in a minute if he had. But it took me two wasted years to find out about Jane. And you know what the sad thing is? He married her. I was only his little bit of fluff on the side."
There was a brief silence as Darcy thought of his next girlfriend. "After Tally came Hillary Van Allen. She was...well, she wasn't so bad, I guess. It was one of those relationships where we saw each other because it was convenient. She was all right, but I didn't feel what I thought I would when I met the right woman."
Elisabeth set her drink on the end table. "Oh my God," she murmured. "You're a romantic."
Darcy considered that. "I guess maybe I am. My mother defied her family to marry my father, and she loved him very much. He loved her even more than that. I guess with that as my example, I couldn't be anything else."
"Who were your parents, Romeo and Juliet?"
"No, Ron Williamson and Amelia Darcy. But my mother's family didn't like my father."
"Was your mother or your father related to this awful aunt you keep talking about?"
"Cath----Cathy is my mother's sister." Darcy felt a prickle on the back of his neck, almost as though Catherine could hear this conversation and was going to strike him dead for calling her Cathy. No one called her that, ever. And those that did learned never to do it a second time.
"That explains a lot. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think that being a romantic is wonderful."
Darcy blushed.
"What? Don't blush!" she exclaimed. "Being a romantic isn't a bad thing. Most of the women I know are always complaining about what jerks the guys around here are, and they're right. To Effingham guys, romantic is taking your woman to bowling league, letting your friends make comments about her figure, and calling it a date."
"People equate romanticism with foolishness. And women don't like 'good guys.' They want men who treat them like dirt. Good men bore them senseless. I mean, look at your cousin."
"Hey, trust me, Charlie isn't looking for a guy who's going to treat her like dirt. She may be shy and choosy, but she knows what she wants."
"Yeah, but she and I broke up because we didn't have 'spark.'"
"That's because she's just as much of a romantic as you are. I think that romantics repel each other, because they need someone to give them a swift dose of reality once in a while. Which was why your relationship was doomed to failure. If your aunt hadn't forced you to go to Japan, you'd probably be happily married to Tally." Elisabeth smiled sheepishly. "Listen to me, pretending to be some sort of relationship expert. Like I know anything about decent relationships. What happened to Hillary?"
"She wanted someone exciting in her life. At least, that's what she told me when we broke up. Hillary then went on to marry Mitchell Y. Anderson, Esquire, who is quite possibly the most boring man in New York."
"Now, you don't know what he got up to when he was alone. Maybe he was a ton of fun."
"Maybe he was a multi-billionaire who didn't have a bossy aunt."
"That could be it." Elisabeth sighed. "The last guy I had serious feelings for was Adam Greenwood, who didn't return the favor. He liked me, but not in that way. We were together eight months before he told me that, then moved to Chicago. So that's it, a quick tour through the love life of Elisabeth Cathleen Bennet, more or less. There have been a few omissions for the sake of expediency, and mostly because they didn't mean all that much."
"Does that include George Wickham?" Darcy asked astutely.
Elisabeth sighed. "Do you know, for someone who means the least to me, he's now having the biggest impact on my life. But under the criteria of 'serious relationship,' he doesn't qualify. So what about you? Anyone else?"
"Just one more, and I'm not sure she qualifies, either. Her name is Anne, and she's the woman my aunt thinks I should marry. She's attractive, smart, has a computer for a heart, no soul because she sold it to the devil." Elisabeth was laughing at this, and Darcy smiled to himself. It seemed odd that he would describe Anne that way, because he never had before. He'd never thought of her in such terms, but now that he got to thinking about it, he wasn't far from the truth.
And as Anne was just like Catherine, the case could be made that he was describing his aunt as well.
"So far, I've managed to put them off, but if I go back to New York, I know she'll be there waiting for me, with my aunt by her side, ready to drag me to the nearest altar if the word 'marriage' accidentally slips out of my mouth. And I guess...that's it."
Elisabeth looked at him intently. "What about Charlie?"
Darcy almost groaned. He should've seen the trap. "Charlie and I weren't together long enough, but I did have...some feelings toward her. She's a lovely girl and I wish that things had worked out better for us, but on some level I think you're right. We're both expecting too much. And at the same time, we're both scared to be disappointed."
"I know that feeling."
Darcy looked at her. She was looking at him with the same intensity. She wasn't that far away...if he leaned over just a little bit, he could kiss her, even if it did mean he couldn't look into her eyes anymore....Was it his imagination, or was she starting to lean in his direction?
"I think maybe I should be going," Elisabeth said, standing up abruptly. "I just came up to say thanks for what you did."
Darcy rose as well, trying to ignore the pangs of disappointment. "You're welcome again. I'd say anytime, but I don't know if I want to make a habit of hitting people."
"I can understand that. So I guess I'll see you at work, then?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Bye." Elisabeth walked to the door and let herself out, leaving Darcy even more confused than he'd been before she'd walked in.
The next couple of weeks brought the beginning of June and hotter temperatures. A good day was when the temperature stayed in the eighties, although within the confines of Planet Earth Pizza, it was difficult to tell a great difference between an eighty-degree day and a ninety-degree one.
Just as Elisabeth had suspected, word of her pregnancy quickly spread. Caroline was a thorough gossip, even if she was a neglectful closing waitress. Lucy and Louisa giggled about the news as often as they could within Elisabeth's hearing, which was fortunately limited. Sean, no doubt sensing the trouble that would brew if she had to work with any of the Gossip Sisters, made sure to schedule them around her. Still, during shift changes, Elisabeth saw them and had to put up with their comments.
Like any of them are any better than I am, she thought crabbily. At least I waited until I was twenty-six rather than getting started in my teens like they did.
To add to her stress was Darcy's almost daily presence at work. She worked with him five days a week now, and seeing him after their unsettling conversation in his apartment was no doubt bothersome to him as it was to her. Elisabeth blushed to remember talking about her love life with someone who was a virtual stranger, and worse yet, a stranger who probably didn't have the greatest opinion of her.
Darcy, to his credit, didn't talk about what had happened. Their conversations stayed more or less professional, with the occasional comment about the weather, the Gossip Sisters, and Charlie, who was dealing with the fallout from word spreading about her breakup with Darcy.
Elisabeth walked in the door of the apartment one extremely hot Thursday two weeks later feeling more exhausted than she ever had in her entire life. Her only consolation was that she'd managed not to lose her breakfast, or her lunch, but her craving for a cigarette was so bad that she'd nearly wept with joy when Kit walked through the door. Second-hand smoke was better than nothing, which was all she got working with Erin, Chazz and Jack-a trio of nonsmokers.
She dropped her keys on the table and headed to her room, wanting nothing more than a long nap and perhaps a cool bath later. When she got to her room, however, she saw that the light on her answering machine was blinking like mad.
Well, hell. There was only one person who would leave enough messages to cause her answering service to go berserk, and that was her mother. Sure enough, there was a short message from Charlie on the notepad next to the phone-
----CharlieGuess who? Psycho Mom has been trying to get a hold of you all day. Thought I'd be nice and leave you all her messages. Gone home to do laundry. If you even think about embroiling me in another family dinner, wipe it from your mind immediately. I'd rather kiss a Wookiee-or Bubba, which is kind of the same thing.
So Charlie still hadn't forgiven her for making her come along the last time, which had been for Jenna's homecoming. Elisabeth supposed she couldn't blame her, since Ruth Bennet had criticized Charlie for having a tan even though she had skin cancer.
"You would think your doctor would've warned you against that sort of nonsense," Ruth had said. "Honestly! You girls think you're going to live forever, doing whatever you please. Even when my girls were little, I wouldn't let them play much outdoors for fear that their skin would get brown and leathery. And look at them today! Lovely complexions they have. If you continue on the way you are now, Charlotte, you'll be dead before you're thirty and have ugly skin to boot."
That had been too much for Charlie to take, on top of the criticism heaped on her head for not having as good a degree as Jenna's and not having a job which paid enough money and being twenty pounds overweight. Charlie had thrown down her napkin and stormed out of the room in tears.
Despite having it explained to her a dozen times, Ruth couldn't seem to understand that Charlie had lymphoma, not melanoma, and that having a tan was the result of the treatments, not because she was disobeying doctor's orders. After Charlie left, Elisabeth had tried once again to get her mother to understand Charlie's problem, to no avail. Ruth had never heard of the disease Charlie had, so it didn't exist as far as she was concerned.
Reluctantly, Elisabeth hit the playback button on her machine.
"Elisabeth, this is your mother. I'm having a family dinner tomorrow night to celebrate Lydia's birthday-and while we're on the subject, Lydia told me that you haven't gotten her a gift yet. I don't know how many times I've asked you to try and remember these things before the last minute, but if you come tomorrow without a gift, it'll break her heart."
"Yeah, right," Elisabeth muttered as she slipped off her shoes. Why was it that she was always expected to get a gift for Lydia's birthday when Lydia never remembered hers? She'd only been joking with Jenna when she'd said she was tempted to do what Charlie's friend Shannon had done one year to a mutual friend and get her a card reminding her of all the years she hadn't received a birthday gift, but the idea was growing in appeal.
The machine had cut her mother off before she could continue, so of course, the next message was from her.
"Elisabeth, this is your mother again. Why on earth do you girls insist on having a machine that cuts you off after a few seconds?"
"A few?" Elisabeth snorted. Before Charlie had figured out how to program the little gizmo, her mother had been prone to leaving three-minute messages that ate up their tape. Now it limited everyone to twenty seconds, which was more than enough for everyone else on the planet.
"Lydia says you haven't even called her to ask what she wants, so I'll just give you the list. She wants a new pair of Nike cross-trainers, or perhaps that show about the mob that's out now on DVD-I'll never understand what she finds so fascinating about the mob. Personally, I think that her latest boyfriend is a mobster, but your father thinks that's just my imagination talking and I just don't like the boy. Well, he's more than likely right, but I just don't think there's a man out there who-"
The machine had cut her off again. After the next beep, her mother continued.
"For goodness' sakes, Elisabeth, this is getting frustrating! It's taxing on my nerves to have that loud beep in my ear. I think I might get you two a new machine for Christmas, because obviously this one is malfunctioning. I think I'm getting a headache from your machine."
"Then quit calling me!" Elisabeth took her shirt off and picked up her dad's old Chicago Blackhawks hockey jersey from the bed, slipping it on.
"I just got done talking to your father-"
"News flash, Ma-he's not my father."
"And he says that show Lydia asked for is called-"
The machine had cut her off again. Elisabeth undid the buttons on her pants, sighing as she realized that her stomach was getting too big for them. And just as she heard her mother practically screeching at her and her "stupid machine," Elisabeth felt a fearful thud in the pit of her stomach.
"Oh God," she murmured, stumbling toward the bed and curling into a ball, knowing even as she pulled the thin sheet over her that she was going to need a heavy blanket soon because her "bad feeling" radar was going well beyond goose bumps this time.
The machine beeped again.
"Elisabeth, this is your mother. Where are you? It's nearly five-thirty. Don't you get off of work at four? I hope you're not out drinking or anything foolish like that. I just wanted to let you know that Jenna's already gotten her the shoes, so you should get her the DVD set. I know it's a little expensive, but I also saw how much you claimed on your taxes last year, so you should be able to afford them easily. Now, I don't want you showing up in anything too...revealing. That outfit you wore to her birthday dinner last year was a trifle too short-"
How on earth was she going to tell her mother she was pregnant? She was going to have to do it sooner or later, and while she really would prefer later, she knew it was going to have to be sooner. Within a few more weeks, the pregnancy was going to be obvious.
There was only one thing to be done. The last of the messages trailed away with a resounding two beeps, so Elisabeth got up and grabbed the cordless phone. She dialed Jenna's work number.
"Heartland Human Services. This is Jenna."
"Jen, it's me. I've got a serious problem."
"I know this already. You're pregnant, George Wickham is the father, and you're giving the baby up for adoption. Is there another problem on top of all that?"
"Yeah. Ma called to remind me that tomorrow is Lydia's birthday, and that she's having a family dinner."
"Ooh. I'm beginning to see the problem now. Don't do it."
"What? She obviously doesn't know or else she'd have banged down my door, threatened to disown me, and wailed about how she doesn't know how she ended up with a daughter like me."
"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean you ought to tell her in the middle of Lydia's birthday dinner. I know you and Liddy don't get along very well----"
"There's the understatement of the millennium."
"Can I finish? You don't get along well, but it is her birthday. Wait until after she's run off to go clubbing or whatever before telling Mom. Please, El? For my sake, if nothing else, because I'm the one who's going to be dealing with the fallout when you go home."
"I can't promise anything, Jen. You know that. She's bound to be on my case from the moment I walk in the door, probably about my weight because I look like I've ballooned overnight. Then she'll start about boyfriends and everything else, and the next thing you know, I'll be telling her. Lydia will no doubt love it. You know how she loves it when I'm in trouble. It keeps Ma from wondering what she's doing. So I promise to do my very best not to say anything, but I can't go past that."
Jenna sighed heavily. "I guess that'll have to do. What are you getting Lydia for her birthday?"
"I'm leaning heavily toward a card. What do you think?"
"I thought you were kidding about that. You'll never hear the end of it if you do that."
"So? I think it would be fitting payback for the lack of gifts I've received compared to the amount of dollars I've had to spend on her. And maybe this will prompt Ma to remember to nag her about getting me a gift for a change. I realize this plan has a success rate of three percent, but I've had worse odds than that." Elisabeth sighed. "Jen...how am I going to tell her? Do I just blurt it out or do I work up to it?"
"On that, little sister, you're on your own. All I can do is be there to hold your hand while you do it."
Elisabeth smiled. "You don't know how much I appreciate that."
Elisabeth had spent the first twenty-two years of her life in a two-story brick house that her father had bought when her mother had first gotten pregnant with Jenna. At the time, the Bennets had been living in a one-bedroom apartment. Elisabeth's mother had insisted on a house for their growing family, and her father had agreed. Two months later, Eric and Ruth Bennet were the owners of the house on 1027 Evergreen Avenue, with the huge yard and a tall oak tree out front. Her mother's flowers were neatly planted all along the perimeter of the house. In the back yard sat the picnic table they'd used so often when Elisabeth had been a child. The garage fit two cars comfortably.
Elisabeth always felt a sharp pang of sorrow as she pulled into the driveway, always expecting her father to be standing on the front porch with a broad smile on his face, waiting to give her a hug and ask, "How's my little Ellie today?" It was difficult to have to remember, even four years later, that he would never do that again.
Despite the fact that it was her childhood home, Elisabeth felt the need to knock at the front door before entering. She waited patiently outside until the door was opened by her younger sister, Lydia.
Lydia was tall and reed-thin, all sharp bones and fifty feet of legs. Her light brown hair was shoulder length and curled wildly around her oval face, which was the softest feature she had. She was a pretty, coltish girl who was vivacious and mostly cheerful but permanently thoughtless and tactless.
"Hi, Elisabeth! Where's my gift?" she asked.
Elisabeth handed her the card. Lydia gave it a strange look before her eyes brightened, obviously thinking there was money inside. Elisabeth skirted around her and headed for the kitchen, hoping she'd make it to Jenna before-
"What does this mean?" Lydia erupted.
Elisabeth ignored her and walked into the kitchen anyway, where Jenna was stirring something that smelled like chili. "Hey, Jen," she said.
"You just got her a card, didn't you?"
"You bet I did. I wasn't about to waste eighty dollars so she could have The Sopranos on DVD."
"What did she mean by her question?"
"I wrote-'now we're even.'"
Jenna shook her head just as Ruth Bennet Atchison walked into the room. "Elisabeth Cathleen Bennet, why have you upset your sister like this?"
"Uh-oh. I must really be in trouble 'cause she's using my full name." Elisabeth snuck a cracker covered with cheese and sausage off the snack tray and popped it into her mouth.
"Don't evade my question, young lady. And stop eating those crackers. They're for hors d'oeuvres."
"I'm hungry now."
Ruth gave her middle child an assessing head-to-toe look before she said, "I see you've been putting on some weight. You really should watch what you eat, Elisabeth."
"I do, but after a while I get cross-eyed and have to stop."
Jenna smothered her laughter, but Ruth heard her anyway.
"Lord, what did I do to deserve such a smart-mouthed daughter?" Ruth raised her eyes heavenward, and in the process missed seeing Jenna mimic her by rolling her eyes. Jenna quickly turned back to her cooking.
"I don't know, Ma. Maybe it had something to do with Daddy," Elisabeth said, swiping another cracker off the snack tray before her mother could smack her hand away.
"Enough of that. Where is Lydia's gift?"
"I didn't buy her one," Elisabeth said, swallowing the cracker.
"What? It's her birthday, Elisabeth! How would you feel if-"
"Go ask Liddy when the last time she bought me something was."
"She gets you something every year."
"Yeah, a card which comes two weeks late. I figured at least I was doing one better by remembering the day of her birthday."
"Her heart's in the right place."
"And mine isn't? Thanks a lot."
"Now I have to go console her, because she's no doubt crying her eyes out due to your senseless cruelty," Ruth said, leaving Elisabeth and Jenna alone.
"Do you ever get the feeling Ma's seen a few too many episodes of Masterpiece Theatre? Honestly, 'senseless cruelty?' If Lydia's doing anything remotely close to crying, it's so she can wheedle the DVD set out of Mel."
Sure enough, from the living room they heard the sounds of Lydia wailing in a voice eerily reminiscent of their mother's.
"But Mel, how am I supposed to know what's going on this season if I don't have all of last season's shows? I thought Elisabeth was going to get them for me so I spent my money on that new outfit to wear to the club tonight and I don't have any money and I was wondering if maybe you could loan me the money so I could get it."
"It's a wonder she hasn't suffered any damage from going so long without breathing," Jenna said.
"Air? The women in our family don't need anything silly like air. We're tough. We're survivors." Elisabeth picked up a carrot stick from the snack tray, dipped it into the ranch dip, and popped it into her mouth.
"We are hungry, aren't we?" Jenna smiled.
"After a few billion meals, pizza gets to be revolting. Especially when your stomach's going through as much upheaval as mine is."
"Good point. Well, hang in there...this is almost done."
"What is it?"
"Chili."
Elisabeth groaned. "I hope there are enough crackers, because I don't think I'm up to chili."
Jenna stopped stirring. "I didn't think of that. I can toast you a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches if you like."
Elisabeth walked over to the bread box and took out a loaf. "Don't sweat it. Grilled cheese is one of the few dishes I'm able to make outside of pizza."
"For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful." With an arch look thrown in for her middle daughter, Ruth finished by saying, "Amen."
"Amen," everyone else repeated.
Lydia picked at her chili and gave baleful looks to Elisabeth, who grinned blithely and prayed she would be able to get through this meal without losing her temper or anything else.
"How have things been going for you, Ellie?" Mel asked politely.
Elisabeth sighed. She truly hated these little rituals and wished she didn't have to go through them. When Mel Atchison had first married her mother, Elisabeth had resented him because he wasn't her father. She'd only come to resent him more because he tried too hard to take Eric Bennet's place. Even now, seeing him sitting in the chair her father always occupied when they would sit down to dinner made her cringe.
However, she supposed she would have to thank him for opening the door to a conversation she hadn't quite been sure how to begin. Despite Jenna's advice not to bring up the topic during Lydia's birthday dinner, Elisabeth could only take so much of her mother at a time and she was already coming close to her limit.
"Things are okay. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I'm glad to be back at the Effingham store. Everything's familiar and I don't have to drive forty-five minutes everyday to get to work. I like being able to have more free time, which I didn't have when I had to run things."
"What about on the personal front?"
Ruth snorted. "After that last boyfriend, I'm not sure I want to know."
"I would hardly call George Wickham my boyfriend, Ma."
"You brought him around to meet us. What would you call that?"
"George just happened to be with me one night when you insisted I come to dinner. As for what I would call our relationship, I would say it was an extended one night stand."
Lydia had just slid a forkful of potatoes in her mouth and just managed to keep herself from choking. Jenna smothered her laughter with her napkin and Mel apparently needed something to drink because his mouth was buried in his glass of tea.
Ruth turned red. "Young lady, how dare you speak to your mother like that?"
"Well, you asked. I figured you wanted to know."
"I realize that in this day and age young people are able to run around and sleep with whomever they choose. That doesn't mean I want to hear about it."
"I'll keep that in mind. By the way, I'm pregnant."
Elisabeth let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding now that she'd told them. She looked around the table. Jenna put her head in her hands. Lydia obviously thought it was a joke because she looked like she was about to laugh. Mel's expression was unreadable, and her mother...
"That is not funny, Elisabeth. To make such a joke...and on your sister's birthday! What are you getting at?"
"Absolutely nothing. I just thought I'd tell you before it became obvious. I'm due in the middle of December."
A heavy silence fell across the table. A minute later, it was shattered when Ruth screamed.
"What on earth were you thinking? I cannot believe you've done this! You-you-"
"I don't recall thinking anything at the time it happened, but believe me when I say it was an accident. I didn't plan on getting pregnant. It just happened."
"And now you expect us to support you? Think again, young lady! You got yourself into this mess, you're going to learn from your mistake! You're going to raise that baby without any financial assistance from your father or myself."
"I'm not asking for financial assistance. I won't need it."
Ruth had been about to say something but stopped. "You mean you're marrying that George? He is the father, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is, and I'd rather die than marry him."
"Then how do you expect to get through on your own? You-" Ruth turned pale. "You're having an abortion? You-you can't do that! I forbid it!"
Elisabeth felt the hair on her arms raise as goose bumps started to form. She shivered slightly, but did manage to say, "I can do any damned thing I want to do. I'm not a kid anymore."
"You're my child-"
"And this-" Elisabeth stood up and pointed a finger at her less-than-flat stomach-"is my child. And I'll do what I like with it."
"You're going to kill it. That's murder, Elisabeth Cathleen. If you kill that innocent, defenseless baby, you'll never set foot in my house again. You'll be a murderer."
Despite herself, Elisabeth blinked back tears. "You really think I'd do something like that, don't you? You think I would just go out and have an abortion. Don't you know me by now?"
"I don't think I've ever known you," Ruth said bluntly. "You were your father's daughter, never mine. I carried you for nine months, but I don't think I understood you from the moment you set eyes on me."
"Nice attitude, Ma. Thanks a lot. And for your information, you don't have to worry about me having blood on my hands. I'm not getting an abortion."
Ruth pressed a hand to her chest. "Thank heavens for that."
"I've decided to give the baby up for adoption."
"What?"
"Oh, what now? I'm not going to kill it! I just don't think I can raise it!"
"That's selfish! You created this baby!"
"That's right, I did. And there are plenty of good homes out there full of couples who can't have children who would love to adopt my child. I'm going to find one and that will be the end of it."
"I can't understand people these days having sex without thinking of the consequences-"
"Hey, I thought I was being responsible. He used a condom."
"Then how did you end up pregnant?"
"Nothing is perfect. It must've been defective or something."
When her mother turned purple, Elisabeth decided it was best not to continue with the possibilities. "Ma, you need to sit down. You're not looking too good."
"Is it any wonder? You come prancing into my house and cheerfully announce that you're pregnant like it's something wonderful. If I die tonight, it'll be on your conscience, Elisabeth. You've been taking years off my life ever since you were old enough to walk and talk."
Elisabeth felt the sting of tears flooding her eyes. She blinked as fast as she could to prevent them from falling. Oh Daddy, where are you when I need you?
"Now Mom, that's not fair to say," Jenna interrupted.
"Well, it's only the truth."
"I did not come in here to cheerfully announce I was pregnant. I came to tell you before someone else did because I felt you had the right to know. If I'd known you were going to jump down my throat, I would've let you find out through the grapevine. As it is, you don't have to worry about me coming back here for a good long while."
"You can't give that baby up, Elisabeth. It's my first grandchild."
Elisabeth could only stare at her mother, not understanding her logic at all. "That's just too bad for you, isn't it? Because it's my decision, and I've made it. I'm not going to raise this baby."
"What are the neighbors going to say? I can see it now. 'Oh, Ruth, how's Elisabeth doing? Is what I heard right, she's having a baby and callously giving it away?' And I'll be forced to say that yes, my daughter is pregnant, and yes, she's decided not to take responsibility for her child."
Elisabeth stood up slowly, having not touched a thing on her plate.
"Where do you think you're going? This conversation is not finished!"
"Yes, it is. It was over a long time ago." Elisabeth's voice was very shaky as she added, "Sorry about this, Liddy."
Ruth was still calling for her to come back when Elisabeth walked out the door.
Elisabeth managed to make it as far as her car door before breaking down in tears. She rested her head on the top of her car and wept bitterly.
If Lydia had informed her she was the one having a baby, Ma would've been so thrilled the neighbors would've been the first ones to know. They'd already be discussing baby names and giggling ecstatically over baby clothes. Ma would already be planning a baby shower.
"Ellie?"
Of all the people Elisabeth didn't want to talk to at that moment, Mel Atchison was second on the list next to her mother. She raised her head and opened her door, pretending that she hadn't been crying just a moment ago.
"Elisabeth, please, wait. Don't go just yet."
"Why? Why should I stick around to hear her continue to scream at me for being an immoral being in every way possible?"
"I wanted to talk to you. I didn't mean you had to come back inside."
Elisabeth resisted the temptation to get into her car and drive off. Instead, she turned around and stared at her stepfather. It was odd, but for the first time she thought she saw a faint resemblance to her father. Her father had been tall and muscular where Mel was tall and...well, not skinny, but he didn't have the build of her father. But Mel had dark hair, just like her father, and green eyes as well, though Mel's eyes were more hazel than green.
"I know you were your father's favorite daughter and that you adored him. And I know that you...resent me for marrying your mother, even now. I know you don't like it when she refers to me as your father and I understand that. I've tried to convince Ruth that it doesn't bother me if none of you call me Dad or think of me as your father. I just want you to know that whatever you decide, I'll support your decision. Even if it upsets your mother."
Elisabeth knew her mouth had to be gaping, but she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "W-why?"
"Because believe it or not, I do care about you. And despite what you think, Ruth loves you very much."
"You can't tell it from what she just said back there," Elisabeth muttered. "She's always been like that, even when I was young. I was always in trouble."
"Now be honest, Ellie. How many times did you get yourself into trouble?"
Elisabeth's jaw set until she gave it a little thought. Most of the things she remembered were rather troublesome for a little girl to be doing. Like the time she'd ridden her bike out to her friend Zoey's without telling anyone and other things of that nature. Her mother had always been the one waiting for her when she got home, not her father, and it was always Ruth who punished her.
Then, when she'd gotten older, and she'd been staying out late, going to keggers and dating unsuitable boys, when tensions between her and her mother had gotten so high that Elisabeth had contemplated running away, that's when her father had calmly started stepping in to resolve conflicts between them.
"Maybe you're right," Elisabeth said with a sniff.
"I think when you give it more thought, you'll see that I am right. Your mother worries about you more than she does Jenna and Lydia."
"She ought to worry more about Lydia. A more spoiled person I've never met."
"Well, I understand why your mother spoils Lydia. It's in part because she's the youngest and also because neither you nor Jenna allowed Ruth to get as close to you as Lydia lets her. Ruth knows what's going on in Lydia's life, and now Jenna's too, since she's moved back home. But you've been on your own for four years. She knows very little about what you do."
"She doesn't want to know, is more like it. I mean, I only live across town, for God's sake. She didn't come over much when Jenna was living here, and she's stopped coming altogether now that Jenna lives at home."
"Would you welcome her in if she did come over?"
"Maybe. But she just gets me so mad! Like that time Charlie was over here and she got on her case for having a tan. And her constant criticism of my boyfriends. And the way she thinks I can't do anything right."
"I admit, Ruth was wrong to say what she did to Charlotte and I told her as much. In fact, I gave her some literature I found on the Internet about her disorder, and Ruth said she felt bad about what she'd said."
"And what about the comments she made about Charlie's weight and job? That wasn't out of ignorance."
"It never occurred to you that she might care about Charlotte, too? When I was first introduced to her, Ruth said, 'Charlie's a very good girl. She saved my little Ellie from drowning when they were little girls, you know.'"
Elisabeth didn't quite remember it happening like that, but she didn't correct him. "She has a funny way of showing she cares."
"I know, and I've talked to her about that, too. It hasn't seemed to help too much, but I'll keep trying." Mel sighed. "I knew when I married your mother that she wasn't a picnic. But I loved her in spite of it all, and I still do. And I care about you guys as much as she does. I'm not your father and I never can be, but I would like to be your friend."
She sighed. This was, she realized, the longest conversation she'd ever had with Mel. All the other times she'd seen him, she'd done her best to ignore him or give him blunt, barely-polite answers designed to make him leave her alone, which generally worked. She'd never bothered to get to know him, the fallout from the marriage being enough to drive her away.
And what had Jenna told her a few weeks ago? That she should give Mel a chance for once. Maybe she was right.
"I'd like that," Elisabeth said quietly. "Thank you."
And because it seemed like the right thing to do, she hugged him. For the first time since her father's death she felt a sense of there being something steady and calm in her life. It was very comforting.