In a Moon Smile (8 page)

I can’t rally enough confidence to strike back. I always feel less worthy than Charlotte. And she knows it.

“So when are you moving in?” Madelyn’s voice squeaked from the other side of the table. She clawed gently at the little flap of barely wrinkled skin under her chin. Her eyes tried to hide the horror of how it would feel to again cancel wedding guests.

Things got sticky for Madelyn during the first cancelled wedding. Now that she faced the second cancellation of ice sculptures, harpists and photographers, she realized that her foolish daughter’s muddy marital tracks would be impossible to cover. Before Chesney was engaged the first time, Madelyn perfected a way to spin her daughter’s bachelorette status to friends. At Euchre club, Madelyn dove away from conversations about Chesney’s single status. Then she babbled fast about how her oldest daughter left Illinois for Manhattan. Wasn’t that amazing? How could a famous author possibly have time to fall in love? The story worked wonders until Ernie slid the first rock on Chesney’s hand then left with his boyfriend.

Now here they were again, on the edge of being the top gossip all over town. Madelyn still hadn’t recovered from the shame of Chesney’s first marital disaster. To tell the truth, she had never been crazy about that swishy Ernie. She believed her reputation was saved when Chesney somehow attracted the attention of such a driven, handsome tycoon with big investments. She had no clue how to break the bad news of the second cancelled wedding. Mitzy Walters and Joanna Hurley would beat her to death with questions she honestly could not answer about her own child. They would shame her, slowly shake their heads and chuckle. Behind her back, those nosy bitches would likely laugh at her. What was she supposed to say? She obviously had no clue what in the hell was wrong with Chesney. If she did, by damn, she would certainly get busy trying to fix it.

Chesney saw that her mother was already stewing about the many ways she would be socially persecuted simply because she gave birth to such a disappointing wedding failure. Madelyn’s stress would be worse because Chesney wasn’t only skipping out on a second trip down the aisle. She was also relocating, from gorgeous Chicago and exciting New York City, to boring Bean Blossom, Indiana, population 452.

As she balanced three kernels of corn on her fork, Chesney knew that her mother was mulling it over; how to put a positive spin on the story, how to possibly explain her oldest offspring’s quirkiness. Madelyn’s face revealed that she had no idea how to avoid humiliation when friends learned the truth about Chesney, the family misfit.

“I’m hoping to move next month,” Chesney said with an excited grin. “When I get everything in order, I will invite you to spend a weekend.”

“Piper will be driving her own vehicle by the time you get that place renovated,” Charlotte said with a dry giggle. Cardboard Cooper patted Charlotte’s shoulder to publicly celebrate her wit. Madelyn dropped her gaze to scoop crumbs from the tablecloth to her palm. Lyle cleared his throat and fiddled with the watch band on his wrist. And Chesney thought about pouncing on top of the table, kicking over the gravy boat, smashing the butter all over Charlotte’s hair. She wanted to scream at them to see her for who she was, to cut her some slack, to understand that she had some pretty darn serious issues. Relationships being at the top of the list, especially relationships with all the people seated at this table.

Instead of playing in to her sister’s cattiness, Chesney helped herself to the bowl of slaw. She avoided eye contact with all of them and was thankful when Piper began to fuss. Everyone else swooped around the perfect cherub, discussing whether she might be teething or maybe she had a tummy ache. Chesney grabbed at her lost composure and tried to pat it back into place. The quiet moment gave her a chance to relive the sweet scenario of buying the home. More than a decade ago, she last stood on Grace’s front porch, loving the spring time sounds of change, birth and beginnings.

S
he vividly saw herself, cross-legged on the second porch step, methodically peeling an orange while Grace rocked slowly on the porch swing. When Chesney closed her eyes, she could hear the whispery scuff of Grace’s garden shoes on the porch floor every time she swung forward. She could see the breeze lift the fluff of Grace’s snow-colored hair. She saw her grandmother’s sweet smile and felt the touch of her hand as Chesney dropped fresh orange slices into Grace’s palm. She was at peace there, safe and confident, too. For all of their life together, Chesney knew that Grace loved her, no matter who she was or wasn’t. In Grace’s presence, Chesney never had to be tall and blonde. In fact, Grace loved her curly auburn tresses, just like her father’s.

A few days ago, on a cold, winter day, Chesney caught her breath when she crested the country hill and saw the house again. She had shivered happily when she realized that no one lived there anymore. The lifelessness gave her permission to snake along the lane, park the car and trespass after all the years of being away. Chesney stood silent and tearful in the midst of her childhood again. It was intense, emotional and strangely calming. As she stared across the meadow that nearly constant stress headache suddenly stopped throbbing. She breathed more deeply, standing there alone in the bitter cold. She was lulled by the wind whipping in the giant, reaching tree limbs.

When she returned first to Chicago, then to Manhattan, for a couple of days, Chesney could not stop thinking about the feelings that floated through her chest while she stood there again, loving Grace’s house. She saw herself returning soon to her grandmother’s home with every single possession she owned. Chesney ached for the peace she experienced that day when she stepped out of the car to peek at her most treasured yesterdays.

It’s time to cut loose from the people who force me into the backseat. It is definitely time for me to be the driver. No matter how scary it feels, I will start making my own path. I’m in charge of what road I take.

Maybe it sounded crazy to her family but Chesney knew where she was supposed to be. Standing in the middle of the overgrown garden, on the edge of the rickety porch, on the hilltop by the pond, she felt strong and centered. There was no denying it. Chesney felt something there that she couldn’t feel here. The decision rested in her chest like a sparkling butterfly. She knew, from the bottom of her soul, exactly what she needed. And truthfully, it was the first time ever that doubt didn’t crowd against her need. Other people’s opinions didn’t smother Chesney’s wishes this time either.

“I’m going to give Grace’s place back to my heart,” she whispered that day. “And I’m going to trust what my heart needs.” Then Chesney caught an early commuter flight from Chicago to Indianapolis. Dressed in a smart black suit, she rented a car, drove to the Southern Indiana countryside and sat down in the town’s only cafe with a smiling Realtor named Darlene Grindstaff.

“You’re sure you want to buy that property?” Darlene had asked. “If you want to relocate to this area, I’m sure I can find a home for you with less need for repair, Ms. Blake.”

“I only want this home,” Chesney said sweetly as she signed the papers.

Grace’s home is now my home. This is the sweetest commitment I have ever made in my life.

Here she sat, making the official announcement about the giant turn her life was taking. Despite how terribly inept Chesney allowed them to make her feel, she promised herself that this time she would not walk out of a family gathering feeling emotionally beat up. This time, the agenda belonged to her.

No, Jack and I will not stroll down the marital aisle. No, I can’t be happy anymore, splitting my time between Chicago and New York. No, I won’t be what you want me to be, at least not any time soon. So what if Charlotte rolls her eyes and Dad looks skeptical. So what if Mom’s neck and face are flushed with irritation. So what.

Chesney smiled. “I am the sole owner of the badly neglected home on a forgotten hill east of Bean Blossom, Indiana,” she said softly. But no one heard the comment. They were discussing her decision as if she wasn’t present at the table. Unable to bear any more silent shaming from the family, Chesney fantasized instead about how beautifully new curtains would dance at the kitchen windows. In the spring, she would breathe in the scent of honeysuckle growing wild in the fence row near the back porch. 

Just as Chesney conjured up a parade of potential curtain colors, Charlotte stuck a pacifier in Piper’s rosebud mouth and geared up for another round of sarcasm. “Chesney bought Grace’s place as a knee jerk reaction to the end of her relationship,” Charlotte said to Madelyn as if Chesney’s ears suddenly fell off and she was unable to hear the discussion.

“Chesney was probably very hurt by the break up,” Madelyn said. “But how can she think that living in Grace’s house will solve her problems with men?”

“What in the world is she thinking, Mother?” Charlotte challenged. “This is so stupid. None of it makes sense.”

“Hello,” Chesney waved her arms in her sister’s direction. “I’m not dead, you know. I can hear everything you’re saying, Charlotte. Here’s a novel idea, why don’t you direct those comments and questions toward me?”

While Charlotte growled under her breath and rolled her eyes in disgust, Madelyn looked at Chesney with pain in her eyes. “You surely didn’t romp off and buy Grace’s house just because Jack broke the engagement,” she said.

“If that’s what you did, Chezzie, you have to know it won’t solve a thing,” Lyle said as he nervously folded his napkin into a tiny rectangle.

Hearing his pet name for her squeezed Chesney’s heart. She squirmed in the chair. Involuntarily, she reacted to her mother’s shameful gaze and her father’s “our-oldest-daughter-is-obviously-a-mental-patient” tone. Tears rimmed her eyes as her stomach again knotted into a mess, to match the rest of her life.

“How about the time you dyed your hair jet black when your prom date dumped you?” Charlotte said.

“I was humiliated,” Chesney said. “I was considering a gothic look anyway, if you must know.”

“You cried for two months,” Charlotte said. “And everyone thought you were a devil worshipper, wearing all that black clothing with black hair dye. You got called into the principal’s office, remember? Other kids thought you were a witch.”

“I was traumatized, Charlotte,” Chesney whispered.

“How about when that guy Drake dumped you at college?” Charlotte said. “Two weeks after you met him, you told everyone you were getting married. And then he got your roommate pregnant.”

“Drake was a problem drinker,” Chesney mumbled.

“Hey, how about that other guy, the foreigner with the long hair. He wanted to marry you so he could stay in America,” Charlotte smiled. With the confidence of a seasoned comedian, Charlotte continued to list her older sister’s disastrous relationships, one punchline at a time. The dining room walls closed in around Chesney as her heart beat moved into her ears. She planted both elbows on the table to provide a hammock for her downtrodden face and stared across the table at her evil sister. How could Charlotte do this? How could she be so purposefully hurtful? Chesney would never flog Charlotte this way for their parents’ attention.

“Don’t forget that one guy, Willis,” Charlotte said through laughter. “He left you for the priesthood.”

This time, Charlotte choked on her own joke and spewed food across the linen tablecloth. Beady tears of meanness glistened in her eyes. No way to stop her now. Chesney tried to ignore Charlotte’s painful darts.

It’s my own damn fault, of course, for providing way too much material for Charlotte’s comedy routine.

“When Gil McElroy ignored her during my wedding reception, Chez got so drunk that she puked in a potted plant by the elevator,” Charlotte was laughing so hard, she struggled to finish the sentence.

“Not true,” Chesney said weakly.

“I saw you,” Charlotte snapped. “And so did my bridesmaids.”

“Fine,” Chesney shrugged, unwilling to admit guilt but also unwilling to bawl hysterically. She decided to be very, very thankful that Charlotte and her spies apparently missed the part where she dry humped the DJ that evening, during the chicken dance.

“What about that whirlwind romance with Mr. Becker’s son?” Charlotte asked. “He was supposedly so perfect.”

“If you really must know, Charlotte, Winston Becker picked his nose incessantly,” Chesney said hotly. “He also had sinus trouble and sniffed constantly.”

Mom, remember when she ran away to the Dominican Republic after ending her relationship with Marcus DeVaney?” Charlotte was laughing so hard that tears streamed triumphantly down her face.

Madelyn struggled to hide a faint smile. Lyle feverishly stabbed at the meat chunks on his plate. Cooper snickered. Piper drooled on her pastel pink bib.

Traitors
.
All of you are traitors. You are entertained by my pain. Hold your breath for the next time I grace your doorstep with baked ziti.

Chesney wanted to smear the green bean casserole all over Charlotte’s face and scream her head off like the mental patient they apparently thought she was.

“And remember…” Charlotte’s voice was now a high-pitched squeal.

“Shut up, Charlotte,” Chesney said in a low voice.

More snickers erupted around the table then quietly died. Cooper hid a grin behind his huge, skinny hand. Charlotte’s mouth gaped open in an amused, toothy smile.

“You’ve got to admit, dear, that Charlotte has a point,” Lyle said.