Honeysuckle Love (27 page)

“It was hard for me to take money from him, Bea,” Clara said. “But he insisted, and I couldn’t argue. Well, I couldn’t keep arguing.”

Beatrice leaned into Clara and rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Will you have to pay him back?”

Clara sighed softly. “No, Bea. He won’t let me pay him back. He was pretty adamant about it.”

“What does ‘adamant’ mean?” Beatrice asked.

Clara grinned. “You just can’t stand not knowing a word, can you?” she teased.

“Just tell me, Clara,” Beatrice replied, hungry for the word’s meaning so that she could store it away to use at the first opportunity.

“It means firm. Unrelenting,” Clara explained.

“
I’m adamant about getting to school on time
,” Beatrice said, trying out the word.

“You got it,” Clara said wrapping her arm around Beatrice’s waist.

“Clara?”

“Hmm?”

“You have a very nice boyfriend.”

They baked chicken in the oven and had a salad, and Clara put the leftovers in the refrigerator. She kept checking the refrigerator’s temperature by making excuses that she needed to get something out of it.

“Stop it, Clara!” Beatrice demanded. “The refrigerator works. And anyway, you’re wasting electricity when you keep doing that.”

Clara grinned and closed the door. “You’re absolutely right.” She walked over to sit with her sister at the kitchen table.

“Guess what?” she asked.

“What?”

“I got another job,” Clara said.

“Oh Clara!” Beatrice squealed. “I’m so very happy for you!” She thought for a moment. “Not happy that you have to work more, but that you got a job because you wanted another one.” She paused. “Not that you necessarily wanted another job, but I know you need it.”

Clara laughed. “It’s okay, Bea. And yes, I’m excited about it.”

“Where will you be working? Beatrice asked.

“Down the street, actually,” Clara said. “At the grocery store.”

“Oh my!” Beatrice’s face lit up. “Do you get a discount?!”

“No, Bea,” Clara said. “But that would be amazing.”

Beatrice’s face fell ever so slightly. “Well, you can’t have it all,” she said, and Clara laughed.

“Bea?”

“Yes, Clara?”

“What would you like for Christmas this year?” Clara asked.

“Nothing, Clara,” Beatrice lied.

“It’s okay,” Clara said. “We can have Christmas, Bea. A small one, but still Christmas.”

“Are you sure?” Beatrice asked. She felt the mixture of hopefulness and uncertainty.

“I’m positive,” Clara replied. “So start thinking about what you want. Make a list and give it to me. And soon. Did you know that Christmas is right around the corner?”

“I did!” Beatrice exclaimed, because she had been counting the days.

***

Clara’s new job afforded the girls a nice, simple holiday. Once school let out for winter break, Clara doubled her workload, taking as many shifts at the clothing store and the grocery store as she could. She told fellow employees to let her know if they needed time to shop or to spend with relatives and she would pick up their hours. She saw her bank account climb, careful to allot a certain amount for Christmas dinner and gifts and the rest for bills. Every now and then the property tax loomed before her, but she tried hard to ignore it. She even managed to put the first delinquency notice out of her mind. She fretted about it for several days after receiving it, but no one came knocking. They were still safe.

She did feel guilty for leaving Beatrice alone a lot, but Beatrice kept herself busy visiting Angela and reading books. Clara told Beatrice she couldn’t spend so much time with Angela or her mother would get suspicious. It was always Clara who picked her up and dropped her off. Sometimes Evan came over to hang out with Beatrice when he wasn’t working. He worked more often during the winter break as well though, Clara learned, so they saw little of each other once school let out.

Clara came home one evening to find the attic ladder pulled down.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” she called up to Beatrice.

“Clara, it’s Christmas! What do you expect?” Beatrice yelled down. She walked to the ladder carrying a large cardboard box.

“I don’t think so,” Clara said. “You’re not coming down that ladder carrying that box.”

“Then help me!” Beatrice replied. She huffed and started sliding boxes labeled “Christmas decorations” and “Christmas ornaments” to the edge of the attic opening beside the stairs. She plopped down and waited for Clara to climb up and retrieve them, painstakingly slow and one at a time.

Once all of the boxes were down, Beatrice handed Clara the artificial tree stand and pole and then dropped down all of the branches for the tree.

“Wasn’t this organized last year?” Clara asked looking at the scattered branches.

“Nope,” Beatrice replied, and climbed down the ladder.

Clara took a deep breath. “This’ll be fun,” she mumbled.

“It will, Clara!” Beatrice said ignoring her sister’s sarcasm and clapping her hands. “Let’s play the Christmas CDs and make hot chocolate while we decorate!”

Clara grinned at her sister’s enthusiasm.

“We don’t have any hot chocolate, Bea,” Clara said and knew instantly what Beatrice’s response would be.

She didn’t wait for it but grabbed her car keys and headed for the door. Beatrice was already there, and together the girls went to the store for a sweet treat.

Clara and Beatrice stood in the tea, coffee, and hot chocolate aisle staring at their options. Beatrice licked her lips.

“I thought hot chocolate was just hot chocolate,” Clara said scanning the shelf. There was hot chocolate with marshmallows, peppermint flavored hot chocolate, sugar-free hot chocolate which Beatrice vetoed instantly, raspberry hot chocolate, dark chocolate hot chocolate, hot chocolate with chocolate chips in it.

“Oh for Pete’s sake!” Clara said.

“Don’t get mad at me about it,” Beatrice replied.

“Just pick one,” Clara said and turned to look down the aisle at the register.

Amy was walking towards her and she stiffened. She never saw Amy at this grocery store. She figured Amy lived on Evan’s side of town, but then she remembered Oak Tower Trail just a few streets over, and her heart sank. She instantly feared Amy lived there and that she spotted Clara at night swiping newspapers from the residents’ recycling bins. No one had made fun of her at school about it, but she panicked that Amy knew and was waiting for the perfect moment to humiliate her.

She watched as Amy drew nearer to her, terrified that Amy would try to engage her in conversation, Clara stuttering and stammering her every reply. Amy was beautiful. There was no denying it. She tossed her long black hair over her shoulder as she walked, boring her light blue eyes into Clara’s face. Clara could feel them burning holes into her, instinctively touching her cheek to see how bad the damage was.

Amy stood taller than Clara and wore her clothes with confidence, wrapped in a tailored dark gray pea coat that reached her hips and sporting skinny jeans and designer boots. Clara thought she was glamorous, and in that moment she felt her whole being was of great insignificance—she was just a girl with a coat that was too small for her wearing jeans from three years ago.

Clara shrunk back against the boxes of hot chocolate as Amy passed by. She glanced at Clara’s face then up and down her body before snorting disdainfully and walking on. Clara looked down at her boots, the rubber ones fitted with wool lining that were unflattering and ugly but kept her feet dry in the snow.

“Clara? Who was that girl?” Beatrice asked. “She looks familiar.”

“She’s no one, Bea,” Clara said and took the box of hot chocolate from her sister’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” Beatrice said. “But she looks familiar.”

Chapter 16

Evan came over the next day to help the girls finish decorating. Beatrice was full of words that day—more than usual, Clara thought—and it exhausted her listening to her sister ramble on. She couldn’t shake her irritability and tried hard to hide it. She wished, though, that Evan hadn’t come over, and then she could wear her bad mood openly and not care. She could stomp to her room and slam her door, and Beatrice would be wise enough to leave her alone. She could cry her frustrations into her pillow, scream into her pillow if she liked, and then hopefully feel better. Instead, she walked around with pent-up rage, afraid that it would explode suddenly and frighten away the only boy she was sure would ever pay her any attention.

“The nutcrackers go on the mantel,” Beatrice said directing Evan who had just pulled two out of a box.

“So who started collecting these?” Evan asked placing them exactly where Beatrice pointed.

“Mom did,” Beatrice replied. “Since Clara’s name is the same as the girl’s in
The Nutcracker
. She took us one year to see the ballet.”

“Did you like it?” Evan asked.

“Oh yes. It was enchanting,” Beatrice replied, and Clara rolled her eyes. Beatrice saw. “It
was
enchanting, Clara,” she insisted.

“Mmm, very,” Clara said flippantly. She pulled the tree topper out of another box and tossed it on the couch.

“Whatever,” Beatrice said. “You wanted to be a ballerina for years after seeing that ballet.”

“No I didn’t,” Clara argued. “That was you.”

“Was not,” Beatrice countered. “I’ve never wanted to be a ballerina. I want to be an actress. You wanted to be Clara in
The Nutcracker
, and that’s why Mom started collecting nutcrackers for you.”

“Just stop talking about it, Beatrice,” Clara snapped. The mention of her mother was too much.

“Well, that’s the truth,” Beatrice said in that sulky way that children do when they want the last word without provoking further argument.

Clara was in the middle of closing up the box when she excused herself and stormed out of the living room. She heard Beatrice say, “She’s just mad that she’s not a ballerina.”

Clara sat on her bed holding her pillow tight to her chest. She heard a soft knock on the door but did not acknowledge it.

“Clara, you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Evan asked poking his head into her bedroom.

“Nothing,” she replied curtly.

Evan walked in and closed the door gently.

“Well, we’re waiting out in the living room for you. Beatrice didn’t want to put the star on top of the tree without you,” Evan said. He walked over and sat next to Clara on the bed.

“I don’t care about the stupid star,” Clara replied.

Evan took Clara’s hand. “Is this about your mother?”

“What about her?” Clara asked, ripping her hand out of Evan’s.

He searched for the words. He knew he would do a lousy job. He wasn’t good with these things, but he knew he needed to try. Clara needed to talk about it, and he wanted to help her.

“Clara, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now with your mother gone,” Evan began. “Is that why you’re upset?”

“Actually, no it’s not,” Clara said. It was a partial lie. She
was
upset about her mother, but it really had to do with Amy.

Evan tried for patience. “Clara, will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why are you dating me?” she asked suddenly.

“What?”

“You heard me. Why are you dating me?” Clara repeated. “I’m ugly, and my clothes are ugly, and my house is ugly.” She turned her face away as she felt the familiar stinging in her eyes. She was so tired of crying.

Evan took her hand and she didn’t resist.

“Clara, I don’t know where this is coming from—”

“I saw your ex-girlfriend yesterday,” Clara interrupted. “At the grocery store. I’ve never really noticed her before. Not really. But yesterday I did. And she’s beautiful—so beautiful—and popular, and I don’t understand why you broke up with her.”

“Because I don’t love her.” It was a simple statement that Clara should have been able to understand, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“Well, I’ll never look like her and have pretty clothes like her,” she snapped.

“Good,” Evan said. “I don’t want you to look like her, and I don’t want you to wear the things she wears.”

Clara was relentless. “I’m not good enough for you!” she cried. “Do you see the way people at school look at us? They wonder all the time why you’re with me. They think I’m a loser and that you just feel sorry for me and—”

He shut her up with a kiss. He pulled her close, holding her hostage in his arms as he kissed her hard. She squirmed to get away, but he wouldn’t let her. The longer she fought him, the longer his lips stayed glued to hers. He was in no mood to hear her talk anymore and wanted her to know it.

She stopped fighting and relaxed. He softened his kiss then, and drew slowly away from her face.