Good Girl (Playroom) (50 page)

I close my eyes against the threat of tears. The Masons are flying to Arizona for a family weekend with Devon
, to celebrate the midpoint of his therapy. Malcolm wants Devon to have a fucking cake made by me. I surreptitiously wipe my eyes dry. I’m surprised my sister is this daft. C’mon! DONUTS!

P.S. No donuts until you receive your next gif
t

P.S. Willow, I believe it’s time you ask
ed Clover what Violet innocently interrupted months ago. I’ll know if you didn’t!

Thank you, sweet ladies!
Your secret admirer, Papa Bear

“You’re kidding me, Clover. You have
to know who the hell is doing this!” I shake my head at her.

No one is that f
ucking stupid! Donuts and Papa Bear, really? The fact that Malcolm doesn’t want any sweets for a few days, because obviously he’s going out of town, should’ve been a huge tipoff.

My P.S. was
definitely from Auggie.

“I don’t know,” she whimpers. Clover sounds desperate, but this is for her own good. I think Malcolm is right, she
would’ve run from him.

“Yeah, well, I do know who it is. It’s slapping ya in the ass, Clover. I’m not telling you. It will be more fun watching you figure it out,” I snicker.

“Willow, it’s driving me crazy,” Clover begs as she starts grabbing stuff from the panty and plunks it on the kitchen island.

“Not a word from me,” I warn. “Teach me to bake a cake,” I sigh heavily.

Seriously, what the frig is wrong with a box mix? Nope, we can’t take the easy route. We didn’t even use measure cups. Clover made me weight the flour, before and after sifting. No cocoa powder for Clover, we had to melt chocolate. It’s no wonder the cake is so decedent. It’s probably why I’ve gained ten pounds in the last month. Half of those desert orders were going to the Spook House.

“Clover,” I begin as tactfully as possible. I do everything Auggie says- within reason. I will never say that phrase again. Spanky will only become the spankee for fun, never punishment. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me. In fa
ct, it never leaves my thoughts,” I reluctantly admit.

My sist
er looks at me in suspicion. Clover knows where I’m leading. She figured out what that part of the note meant. I can see it in her eyes.

“Yo
u said it was an open adoption?” I ask out of curiosity. I swirl the last of the chocolate rosettes around the outside of the cake. A groan is torn from me as I lick the chocolate ganache off my fingertip. “Divine,” I purr.

“Yes, it
was an open adoption,” Clover cautiously answers as she bundles the cake into the sturdy box that came with the pan and the note. “I’ll be right back. I have to put this on the porch. Watch,” she smirks. “It will be gone in under a minute. I don’t know how they do it. I can watch and nothing happens, then I blink and it’s gone. Usually the kids pester me and I miss the pickup.”

I snicker while Clover
takes the cake to the porch. No doubt it disappears while the kids pester her. I bet Malcolm or Kieren calls Seth and Violet to get Clover away from the front window. They are so freakin’ awesome!

I lean back against the island and cross my arms over my chest. “Reason I’m asking,” I say to Clover when she returns. “Is that it’s driving me crazy. I walk down the street looking for someone my age. I look for your blue eyes or Sam’s chipmunk cheeks. I don’t ever find them. I need to know if it was a boy or
a girl. I need to know who it is, Clover. What if one of us hooks up with them? That would be incest!”

“No need to worry over that, Sa
pling. It will never happen.” Clover takes a deep breath, holds it for what seems like minutes, until I worry she’ll suffocate. She expels it in a forceful gust and continues speaking. “A girl- a lovely, brave, bullheaded child that looks just like Sam, but has my body.”

I speechlessly stare at Clover
, as she reins in her emotions. Tears are gliding down her cheeks and it kills me. “You don’t have to say any more. I can see it’s killing you,” I sadly say.

“She
has Sam’s chipmunk cheeks.” Clover smiles and wipes her eyes. “She has his hair and eyes. His gravelly voice, too. She has his unflinching honesty. Her words sometimes feel like a suckerpunch to the gut.”

“She sounds like she could be my best friend,” I joke to lighten the mood.

A smirk flashes across Clover’s face. It’s so similar to my own that I join her. “Undoubtedly,” she replies to me. “Sam made me promise on his deathbed that I wouldn’t keep the secret. Thousands of times I’ve tried, but the words would get caught in my throat. When she was little Sam told her the truth. She was too young to understand, but it made him feel better.” Clover closes her eyes and sighs. “I wasn’t lying when I’d said that Sam never forgave me. He wasn’t being harsh. This secret hung heavily over our marriage.”

“Why didn’t you tell the truth? Why couldn’t you do it for Sam?” A slight edge of accusation and fury lace my voice.

“I loved her more than I loved Sam. Sam was an excellent father, but I’d made a deal and I stuck to it. Responsibility is a difficult thing to keep up with. I was one week from my seventeenth birthday when I had her. I couldn’t take care of her. Hell, I couldn’t take care of myself. I would’ve been a selfish piece of shit to take her from her parents, from her siblings, when she was three and I was ready to be a mom. I tried to take care of her the best I could. I failed more often than succeeded.”

“Who knows?” I
warily ask.

“Ever
yone who is older than you,” Clover whimpers, waiting for my reaction.

“Mom and Dad know,
Robbie knows?” I accuse and Clover’s facial expression screams the truth. “Auggie?” Clover shakes her head yes and closes her eyes. “The Masons?” I practically scream.

Clover audibly
swallows. “Malcolm knows, but none of the kids do. Essie doesn’t know, either. Essie was too young, but she’s came right out and asked me before. Essie suspects the truth… Violet knows,” Clover whispers. “She figured it out two months ago.”

“Who? I need to know the truth!” I scream. “I need to hear you say it out loud!”

Naïve Willow is no more. I’m not daft like Clover. I don’t need to have it smack me in the face to get a clue. I get it. I’d joked awhile back that I couldn’t take any more shit. Well, I’m not an alien or born a male, but I sure as fuck was adopted… by my own Grandparents.

I stare a silently crying Clover down. “Sam was ri
ght not to forgive you,” I harshly growl. “Say it, Clover,” I spit out.

“Willow, she’s you. You’re my daughter…” Clover gasps. “I’d give anything to hear you call me Mom and not have it be a snide comment.”

“
I can forgive you for this,” I honestly admit, and my mother relaxes. “What I can’t forgive you for is that I never got to call Sam Daddy to his face. I never got to be a daddy’s girl. For Sam, I would have been a good girl, Mom.”

~Widow~

Narrated by Clover Webster & Malcolm Mason… coming August 2013
~Would you like more stories from the Playroom~

Contact Erica Chilson:
[email protected]
 

Erotic romance fans, would you like something slightly edgier? Try the
Mistress & Master of Restraint series. The dark erotic romance series begins with Restraint.

About the Author
Erica Chilson spends most of her time inside her own imagination, whether awake or asleep. Her love of reading and writing for her book review blog, Wicked Reads, inspired her to begin writing again. Not one that enjoys the norm, her favorite things to read, write, and dream about are on the edge, claws and fangs, and wickedly entertaining things…
www.ericachilson.wordpress.com
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