Waking Up to Love (10 page)

“He's going to be at work for a while,” Debra explained. “He's already taken too much time off for my benefit.” What Debra didn't know was that Rob's company was really struggling. He'd recently had to lay off a few of his employees, and now he was struggling to do their work on top of his own.

Debra couldn't find out any of that, though. Her heart.

Scott took a huge bite of the pepperoni pizza. It tasted as good as it smelled. “Good choice, Mom,” he said.

“I called in the order!” Jeffrey bragged.

Ramona chewed happily. She was leaning forward with her elbows on the table. In other words, she was sitting like Ramona, not Nessa. Nessa always ate her pizza with a fork, too.

Aside from table manners, though, Scott was surprised—and impressed—by how easily Ramona took to the fake-wife act. She walked a little differently. Her speaking voice was a little slower and quieter. All in all, she was a more-than-passable Nessa.

He missed the old her, though. Little moments like these really brought things back into perspective.

He almost didn't want to say anything, but he knew they had to keep up appearances, so he nudged her under the table.

She understood the signal. Right away, she sat up straight and grabbed her silverware.

Scott was halfway done with his first piece before he noticed that Debra wasn't eating. Instead, she sat with her arms in her lap and waited.

“Mom?” he asked.

“Aren't you hungry?” Jeffrey asked. He had tomato sauce on his chin and forehead.

“I'm just taking a moment to appreciate everything.” She looked around the room and her eyes stopped at Ramona. It wasn't clear exactly what had caught her attention.

“Mom?” Scott said again.

“I think we should have a toast,” she said. “Nessa? Would you like to do the honors?”

Ramona loudly swallowed. “Sure. Yeah.”

“Great,” Debra said. She stood up and raised her glass in the air.

Everyone else followed.

“Hmm,” Ramona said. “Well, I think we should toast to Debra for making an amazing recovery. So … cheers.” She leaned forward to clink glasses.

Debra stopped her from completing the cheers. “That's not enough. I'm old news, dear. Let's hear what you're thankful for.”

Scott couldn't help but think that this was a weird moment. Their family wasn't known for toasts.

“Okay,” Ramona said, “Let's raise our glasses to Jeffrey, for being awesome at killing space mutants. And Rob, even though he's not here, for being a tireless businessman and an excellent … brother-in-law. And to Scott, for being my best friend and the strongest guy I know. Cheers.”

Clink.

“Hear, hear!” Jeffrey said.

Debra smiled. Ramona looked pleased with herself. But Scott couldn't help thinking that the toast—no matter how positive—was a very
Ramona
thing to say.

• • •

Creak!

There was one step in the McInney household that always made noise. Usually, Scott stepped over it, but that night, he had other things on his mind.

He'd just said good night to his mom and left her bedroom as quietly as possible. As he stepped off the stairs, though, he heard loud noises filling the whole.

No. Not noises. Laughter.

Rob, Jeffrey, and Ramona were in the living room, laughing hysterically.

Uh-oh.

He could tell by Rob's face that Ramona had just told him something really embarrassing. The biology class frog episode? Breaking Miss Norris's lawn gnome? Or maybe the time they tried ghost hunting? As his older brother, Rob had front-row tickets to plenty of Scott's childhood embarrassments, but there were still a few stories that he and Ramona had kept quiet.

“What did I miss?” Scott said with a sigh.

“Uncle Scott. You went ghost hunting?”

He glared at Ramona. In response, she shrugged. “It just slipped out.”

“I'm sure it did.”

Rob couldn't stop laughing, and even though Jeffrey didn't quite understand what was going on, he was laughing too. Rob had a box of leftover pizza in his hands. Even though he'd missed dinner, he'd still get to enjoy the extra anchovy slices.

“You do realize that we swore each other to secrecy,” Scott said. “You realize that, right?”

“Things change,” she said.

Yes,
Scott thought,
they certainly do.

Rob wiped his eyes and shook his head. It was time to get serious.
“Can we talk?” he asked. But the underlying question was: Can we talk without Mom hearing us?

“She's asleep,” Scott answered. “The coast is clear.” He sounded like they were eight-year-olds playing Seize the Flag.

“Is this about … money?” Ramona asked. Scott knew that his brother would've been offended by such a personal question from someone other than Ramona.

Rob turned to his son. “Jeffrey, why don't you go play in the backyard, 'kay?”

“But Dad—”

“Go.”

And he went. Like most little kids, he could tell when the adults were about to start their adult-talk.

Now Rob was free to answer Ramona's question. “It's about money.”

“What happened now?” Scott asked.

For the last few months, things had been really touch and go with Rob's company. At first he said the usual catch-all excuse: “Tough economy.” But then Rob started selling off property, vehicles, even things around the house. He laid off two of his employees. Just before Debra's accident, he'd told Scott—and Scott alone—that if things didn't get better for McInney Renovations, he'd lose his house.

He looked at Ramona, who was only vaguely aware of the situation. There was a whole iceberg of financial problems for Rob, and Ramona only saw the tip.

“Don't look so serious,” Rob said. “It's actually good news.”

“Really?”

“Really?”

“I have a potential client. A big one.”

“That's great news,” Scott said.

“In Chicago.”

“That's … um …”

“Exactly. Jeffrey's going to stay with friends, so you don't have to worry about babysitting. But …”

“You'll be away from Mom.”

“I'll be away from Mom.”

Scott knew his brother wanted his blessing. Otherwise he would've just said it in a crappy text message. But Scott didn't know if he was ready to give his okay. After all, their mother needed them there. She needed family.

Not for the first time that week, Scott McInney was at a loss for words.

So Ramona chimed in. “If it's something you have to do, then it's something you have to do.”

“When do you leave?” Scott asked.

“Tonight. Midnight. It was the earliest flight.”

“You already booked your flight.”

“Yeah.”

Once again, Ramona chimed in. “Well, good luck! Remember, firm handshakes make a world of difference.” Sometimes, she just said things to fill the silence.

Scott and Rob hugged and Scott said, “Get back soon.” That was the best he could do.

“And I'll definitely be back before Mom's big party,” Rob said. “And listen, I wouldn't go if I didn't think you had everything under control.”

There really wasn't anything else to say, so they stood there silently for a while until Ramona broke the tension. “So, Scott, if you still have your ghost-hunting equipment, maybe we can check out the basement.”

They didn't have a basement.

Rob noticed the way that his brother looked at Ramona. He gave Scott a warning look.
Watch out,
it seemed to say. Scott noticed this instantly.

“Sorry, Ramona. I'm afraid all that stuff is long gone. But you can always go to Walmart and stock up for us. I think their paranormal section is across from home and garden.”

She smiled. “I'd better head out. See you tomorrow.”

And she left.

Scott couldn't help but watch her go. When she exited a room, it was like the whole atmosphere changed, like there was suddenly something missing that would never come back. He wondered if anyone else felt that way about her.

Probably not.

She was unique. And his feelings for her—his weird,
friend/not friend
feelings—were unique too.

Rob grabbed his shoulder. For a second there, he'd forgotten that his brother was even in the same room, let alone standing a few feet away.

“Dude,” Rob said.

“Don't start,” Scott said.

“What? I wasn't gonna—”

“Just don't, okay?”

Rob squeezed. “What I was going to say,” he said, “was that this fake-wife thing is a little weird.”

“Come on.”

“But!” Rob continued. He held up one finger. “But it's good to have her back.”

Scott nodded.

“Just make sure things don't go too far.” Rob let go.

Always the older brother. Always looking out for everybody else, even when he leaves. Some things never changed.

Debra laughed so hard, she snorted. That made Ramona laugh, too, and pretty soon, no one could stop them. They were in the midst of a potent case of giggles. After a good two minutes of fanning their faces and trying to talk, Ramona finally gained a small bit of composure.

“What are we even laughing about?” she asked.

Debra snorted again. “I don't even remember anymore.”

Ramona knew it had something to do with her childhood, something really embarrassing from high school, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember. “Come on,” she said. “We've been at this for an hour. We have to set out the rest of these tables before Scott comes home.”

They'd been planning the party for the last three days now, and everything was moving along like a high-speed train. At this pace, they could reschedule everything for tomorrow, and they'd be in a good place—with the exception of Debra's health. Sure, she'd come a long way in three days of walking and talking, but she still wasn't at her A-game. If only her body was as cooperative as these damn decorations.

Still, Debra said she hadn't laughed like that in ages, so Ramona took it as a definite good sign.

Right now, they were positioning all the patio furniture in the backyard, spacing out the chairs and lining up the tables. The awning was already in place, so they had to make sure all the seating was out of the sun.

Ramona took a quick break by sitting on one of the tables.

Debra glanced down at Ramona's legs. “What's that?” she asked.

Ramona followed her gaze, but couldn't see anything. “What? Did I step in something again?”

“No, your knee,” the older woman clarified. “That scar looks a lot like … your sister's.”

Ramona gulped. Sure enough, her right knee had a small triangular scar right in its center. And out of all the physical traits that she and Nessa shared, that wasn't one of them. She had to think quickly, or else Debra would know something was up. “Oh, um, that wasn't Ramona. That was me, remember?”

Debra shook her head. “No. I clearly remember Ramona falling in the backyard. Right over there, see? By the hydrangeas? You weren't there. You were showing off your new dress to the boys across the street. And I very clearly remember giving her a Flintstones Band-Aid. She always loved Flintstones more than you.”

All of that was true: the fall, the hydrangeas, the Flintstones bandage. She didn't know how to get out of this one, so she decided to dig herself in deeper. “Debra, no. That was me, remember? Ramona hated the Flintstones. She thought their big, bare feet were creepy. I was the one who fell.”

Debra cocked her eyebrow. She studied Ramona for a second.

Ramona felt a knot in her stomach. It twisted and twisted.

“I guess my brain's not what it used to be,” Debra finally said.

“Oh, don't say that.”

She looked away sadly. “No, it's true. And I'm sorry I brought up Ramona. I know you two aren't on the best terms right now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she hasn't visited me yet,” Debra answered matter-of-factly. “Your sister loves me, just like I love both of you. But she hasn't come over once, and I assume it's not because of something I did mid-coma. So that leaves sister problems.”

Debra's assumptions were completely wrong, but they did seem like a good excuse to cover up the real issues. Ramona decided to play along. “Yes. Since the wedding, she's been a little distant.”

“Say no more,” Debra said. “Like I told you, I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

“Oh no,” Ramona answered. “It's okay. You can talk about Ramona all you want. You were like a mother to both of us, remember? And I'm sure she'll see you really soon.”

Debra began straightening the last of the patio tables. They could've been finished with this thirty minutes ago, but the conversation had gotten too serious. “When I see her, I know what I'll tell her, too.”

Ramona scooted all the chairs together. “And what's that?”

“I'd tell her that if a woman loves a man, she has to fight for him at all costs. But”—and she raised her voice for this last part—“if two women love the same man, they each have to respect his decision. You can't make someone love you any more than you can make the ocean stand still. If it's meant to be, it'll happen.”

Ramona felt that familiar sensation: a clamp around her heart. She was getting used to that feeling. “You should really tell her that,” she said.

“And I will,” Debra promised. “
When
she comes to see me.” Having moved all the patio chairs except one, Debra sat on the last chair and stretched her legs onto the table. “Your sister did get one thing right, though,” Debra said.

Ramona leaned close. “And what's that?”

“Fred Flintstone had really creepy feet.” She started laughing again.