Love Hurts (17 page)

Jilly laughed. “I love you guys. I don’t know why I held back so long.”

“Fear,” Anna said quietly.

“You’ve felt it too. You’re doing the same thing, Anna. You stopped writing just like I stopped painting. Here I’ve been feeling sorry for myself, depressed and wallowing and didn’t even notice you’ve been struggling for so long yourself.” Jilly pulled Anna into a strong hug.

“Why?” Jilly asked. “Why did we do this to ourselves?”

Gregg smiled at Anna over Jilly’s shoulder and left the room.
He’s a smart man, that Gregg. Knows when the emotion is getting too high and he gets out while the getting’s good.

Chapter 17

The plane touched down on the tarmac with a soft thump. Jilly gripped Anna’s hand, grinding the bones together until Anna squeaked and wiggled her hand free. Jilly shot her a quick look of apology and turned back to the window. The lights of Toronto lit up the dark night sky, the sight bringing a warmth to Anna’s heart that she hadn’t expected. She was home, and for the first time, realized she’d missed it.

Catarina didn’t know they were coming. They had argued long and hard over whether or not to tell her—Anna for, Jilly against. Anna agreed not to call Mamma since her sister was willing to make the trip. They had no idea what they would say to Mamma when they got there. The only thing they agreed on was that they needed to go.

They sat quietly while the plane taxied to the terminal. Jilly grabbed Anna’s hand again, more gently this time, and gave her an “I’m trying to be brave” smile. It was wobbly at the edges, but she made a good effort.

Before they’d left, Anna had finally submitted her Princess Jilly stories to a publisher. She had spoken to Cliff who gave her the name of an editor he knew personally who was interested in children’s books. Anna had typed them up and Jilly did the illustrations. They’d had a lot of fun with them. It had only taken them a couple of weeks to put them together since they knew the stories so well. Anna was proud that their skills so complemented the other. Working on the stories helped keep their minds off the upcoming reunion.

The acceptance call from the editor had come only that morning as she waited for the taxi. She’d had to get off the phone quickly, but had the editor’s number and would call as soon as they reached their hotel. Anna squirmed in her seat a little, still starry-eyed that her Jilly books were going to be published. She was glad the acceptance had come through before her trip home. She felt better knowing she’d at least found some success before seeing Mamma again. She hated to admit it to herself, but she still wished to hear Mamma say she was proud.
Is that still a pipe dream?

The plane came to a stop and they collected their luggage. Jilly gave her another nervous look as they waited for the passengers to start moving off the plane. Anna squeezed her sister’s shoulder as the churning started in her own stomach. It was like a butterfly ball.

They sat on opposite beds and stared at each other. Neither wanted to pick up the phone and call Mamma. They’d both had a restless night. They’d talked well into the night and then slept until ten.

Finally Anna couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. She picked up the phone and asked the front desk to get them a cab.

“Why a cab?”

“We’re going over there.”

“Now? What if she’s not home?”

“Then we go back another time. I think we need to see her face to face. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Anna stood and picked up her purse. She’d left the dolls in the carry-on. They would be in town for at least a week, so there’d be enough time to decide later what to do with them.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Jilly slowly got to her feet and picked up her own purse. “Are you sure about this?”

“No more than you are, but it’s the only way. We discussed this.”

“I know we discussed it,” Jilly snapped. “I just didn’t think it would be so hard.”

Jilly looked terrified. She had always needed Mamma’s approval more than Anna did. When she didn’t get it, it nearly crushed her spirit. The thought of being rejected once again was probably almost more than she could bear. Anna felt the familiar anger rise. She hated it when anyone hurt her sister. She’d developed the mother-bear instinct after so many times finding Jilly crying from some insensitive remark Mamma made.

They held hands and waited outside for the taxi. When it arrived, they got into the back together. Anna directed the driver to the Rosedale area. She saw his surprised look in the rearview mirror and turned away. It might be one of the wealthiest areas of Toronto, but she’d always felt wealth was overrated without love.

Toronto had grown in the decade since she’d left. Always a huge, sprawling city, it had now grown even larger, taken in more of the cities nearby. As they got closer to Rosedale, Anna stared at the familiar houses and buildings. She’d passed them so many times they seemed familiar and yet foreign.

The taxi pulled up in front of a large colonial house. The tempo of the butterflies in Anna’s stomach increased into a mad dance. She paid the driver, and they got out. Anna’s legs shook so hard she had to lock her knees in order to stay on her feet.

“Oh, Anna, what if she’s not home?”

“She usually is in the morning. She’ll probably be painting.”

Jilly gave a quick nod and marched to the front door where she knocked with force. Anna trailed after.

The door opened and a stranger’s face looked out at them. “Yes?”

“Oh,” Jilly said. “Is Ms. di Rossi home?”

“Who might I ask is calling?” the woman asked, her manner stiff. She wore a uniform, although it wasn’t a formal one. She must be a new housekeeper.

“Jillian and Anna.”

“Your last names?” The woman definitely put her nose in the air a little.

“di Rossi.” Jilly trumped the woman with her frosty tone. “Can you not see the resemblance?” Jilly waved a hand toward Anna.

The woman looked closer at Anna and her superior manner deflated with her exhaled breath. “Please, ladies, come in.”

They stepped inside, the memories rushing back like a flash flood.

The house gleamed, immaculate as it had always been. The house smelled strongly of lemon. As the scent filled Anna’s nose, it brought with it a thousand memories, flashes of her life in this house. Nothing had changed, except herself. It looked like all the furniture still stood in the same places, like a shrine set up for an imaginary life. They hadn’t really lived in this house. It was a home to a pretend family.
Why did we come here?
Anna clenched her hands together, then wiped her palms on her jeans and clasped them together again.

The housekeeper led the way into the salon, as Mamma had always called it. She’d set it up as the formal room for receiving visitors. Anna still remembered the day they’d moved into the mansion. Jilly had only been six, so the house was where she’d grown up. But Anna remembered a smaller house, a warmer one, where she’d had her Mamma’s attention and love for a while. And then her mother had seemed to disappear in a vapor of paint and turpentine fumes. Mamma had been passionate before, but she’d tempered it with her daughters’ needs. Then she’d been discovered and everything changed. Anna now understood the pressure on Mamma must have been immense. But the little girl who still lived inside her heart couldn’t forgive the neglect.

“I’ve always wanted a room like this!” Mamma had said as she walked around the room, her eyes sparkling with delight.

She had purchased the home that week, and it was the first time she’d brought the girls to see it. Anna and Jilly walked around, not sure how they were going to feel living in such a grand home.

“Isn’t it beautiful, girls?” Mamma crowed.

“Yes, Mamma,” they both answered quietly. She didn’t seem to notice their discomfiture. She was so pleased with owning a mansion that she seemed to think there was only one way to feel about it.

The salon looked the same as always. Mamma had fitted it out with the most elegant furniture. Jilly sat on the white leather couch and pressed her knees together. They waited while the housekeeper left to fetch Mamma. Anna gave Jilly what she hoped was a comforting smile. She believed Jilly couldn’t see how her lips trembled. The lacy curtains cast a filmy light across the room. Anna stepped behind the matching white leather love seat and looked out at the view. She stared at the vast expanse of green. A perfectly manicured lawn, testament to the perfectly manicured life within the house. Mamma never let anything wither in her care. Everything was either taken care of by her or by hired help. It made Anna wonder how she could let the two little plants named Anna and Jilly go without the same care and consideration.

There was a light step at the door and then a quick indrawn breath.
Mamma.
Even from a distance, Anna could see the tears spring up. It caused confusion in Anna’s heart. She’d always known Mamma loved them, but it was more of a head knowledge than something she knew in her heart.

“Girls. My girls. You’re here.” Mamma’s voice shook with emotion, but she didn’t step into the room. She actually looked afraid. Anna understood.

“Mamma,” she spoke quietly. Jilly hadn’t said a word and Anna felt the need to reassure everyone in the room that they could make it through this meeting. “It’s good to see you.” Anna tried, but she couldn’t inject much sincerity into the words.

Finally, Mamma stepped into the room. She didn’t open her arms for a hug, but sat regally on the love seat across from Jilly. She stared at her youngest daughter for a few moments while Jilly looked back, her face expressionless. Her mother’s head trembled. A wave of compassion came over Anna, not entirely welcome. The last thing she wanted was to feel sorry for their mother. They’d come for retribution, to show Mamma just how much she’d hurt them. She didn’t expect to see Mamma had been hurt as well. By whom?

Anna moved around the sofa and sat beside Jilly. She hoped her presence would comfort her sister, who still hadn’t moved a muscle. The tension built to such a level that Anna nearly cried out to release some of the pressure. Who would speak first?

“I’m glad you’ve come.” Mamma clasped her hands together, her knuckles whitening. “I know how hard it must have been for you both.” She swallowed, paused. “Was it the painting?”

“Why did you do that?” The words burst from her, angry, accusing. “You could have called us or come to see us yourself.”

“Would you have answered my call or opened your door to me?” The words were quiet but weighty.
 

Anna blinked, knowing Mamma had a point.

“I’m sorry I did it that way, but I’m also not sorry.”

Mamma always did have a confidence that she hadn’t passed on to either of her daughters.

“I’m not sorry because you’re now both sitting in front of me. I’m sorry it caused you pain, but I couldn’t think of any other way.”

“You’re good at that, aren’t you, Mamma?” Jilly’s words were clipped, harsh.

Mamma rocked back, slapped by Jilly’s words.

“You’re good at hurting us. Why stop now?”

Anna wanted nothing more than to squeeze Jilly’s hand, stop the emotion from rising too high, too out of control. She made a conscious choice to stay back, allow Jilly the freedom to speak her mind. What good had bottling it all up come to?

Mamma looked down, as if she was ashamed. Anna should have known better. Mamma lifted her head back up and her dark eyes flashed fire. “One thing you better know, Jillian, is that I’ve always loved you girls. I never meant to hurt you. I never purposely tried.”

Anna may have looked like Mamma, but Jilly was most like her. They’d always clashed. They were passionate women, both artists, and neither knew how to deal with the waves of emotion that would hit them from out of nowhere. Anna liked to keep things calm and in control. She was the peacemaker. Mamma and Jilly couldn’t live without the roller coaster of emotion once in a while. They thrived on it.
 

Jilly had tried to be different and it almost killed her. She’d tried to keep her art under control, but it came out bland and benign. Mamma may have painted the same kinds of scenes, but hers had passion, fire. They nearly jumped off the canvas, demanding to be noticed. Jilly’s faded into the walls where they hung. Not so the painting she’d done recently, or the illustrations she’d done for the Princess Jilly stories. Once she let the passion have free will, all her talent came pouring out. Her pictures were nothing like Mamma’s, but they had just as much talent and maybe even more fire.

Anna wondered if she had missed out. Were emotion and passion really such bad things? Jilly never left people wondering how she felt about something, whether a political situation or her opinion on an actor’s behavior. She would speak long and loud and be damned if anyone felt different. She just didn’t care. Not that she didn’t respect others’ opinions, but if hers was different, she wouldn’t change it just to suit them. Anna, on the other hand, often buried her true thoughts just to avoid an argument. What had she been afraid of?