Winter in Full Bloom (26 page)

“Actually, I was there to find my twin sister, Camille.”

“Was she lost?” A chuckle rippled beneath the surface of Mr. Averill’s expression.

I bristled at his flippant attitude, but let it go. “It’s a long story.” And a story I had no intention of telling him, not with that jeer dancing on his lips. “But I ran into Marcus while I was there, and he volunteered to help me find her.”

“Just like that?” Mr. Averill stabbed his fork into the roast beef. “He volunteered to help someone he didn’t even know?”

The man made it sound as if Marcus was wanting in his character for reaching out to help me. “Yes, he did. At first, I hesitated, because he was a stranger and all, but—”

“Good girl.” Mr. Averill pointed his fork at me.

I tried to keep my Irish ire from flaring. “
However,
at the time, I didn’t know how foolish that decision would have been. With Marcus’s help, we did find Camille, and she flew back with me to Houston. We’re in the middle of a family reunion because of the help from your son.”

“You give me too much credit,” Marcus said. His expression pleaded, “Please don’t spread my praise too thickly.”

“Not at all. It’s as true as can be.” I smiled at him, not giving an inch, since I wasn’t about to sit still and watch Mr. Averill pulverize his son. I could take Mother lambasting me, but for some reason witnessing the same thing happening to Marcus felt unbearable.

“Well, then, Son, you should be commended for being the redeemer of families.” His father tore a roll apart and reached for the butter. “Rather ironic, wouldn’t you say?”

“Charles,” his mother said. “Please.”

I fiddled with a loose thread on my dress. All I had to do was pull and one of my buttons would go clattering to the floor. So tempting. Perhaps it would be a small act of defiance on my part, but more importantly, it might redirect the flow of conversation. Before I could pull, Mrs. Averill spoke up again.

“Marcus? Have you called any of your old friends since you’ve been back? I know they’ll want to touch base.” Her tone came off as tremulous as a fluttering leaf in a hurricane.

Marcus stirred his fork around in his peas and then mashed them between the prongs. “I’m sure I can call some of them soon, but I just got back.”

I tried to spread some butter on my bread, but it kept falling off in cold chunks. The meal was not getting off to a great start, and it had nothing to do with the food. Mr. Averill’s formal, commanding attitude reminded me of my mother. Had our childhoods been more similar than I imagined?

“My agent drove down from Austin,” Marcus added.

“Humph.” His father curled his palms against the edge of the table and straightened his elbows like a prosecuting attorney might do on the railing in front of the jury. “What in the world does
she
want?”

Marcus leaned forward. “Pamela’s excited because I’ve started to illustrate and write again. I’d been floundering all this time until I met Lily. She’s inspired me to pursue my gift again.” His voice held traces of boyish enthusiasm in spite of the cold reception.

But this didn’t seem like the best time to bring up his career. I guess Marcus just wanted to dive right in and get it over with. But the waters around the table looked frigid enough to cause some serious frostbite.

Marcus’s father folded his napkin, set it on the table, and then pressed a crease in the cloth with his finger. The few seconds of quiet before he spoke were like the moments inside the eye of a tornado. “Have you conveniently forgotten it was this so-called gift, this artistic obsession of yours, this selfish and all-consuming need for pleasing the public at all costs that kept you in a constant state of exhaustion … which killed your sister?”

Marcus flushed red
. “No, I have not forgotten. How could I? She was my precious baby sister. I will never forget her or what happened for as long as I live.”

Mrs. Averill’s knife clattered on the butter plate, making me jump.

If there were ever a good time to pick at my fingers it was now, but I chose to sit on my hands instead. The food no longer mattered anyway.

“Charles. It’s not the right time to bring this up. We have a guest.” Mrs. Averill raised her chin.

“Then tell me, when is the right time, Gerty?” Mr. Averill fell back in his chair. “You seem to have all the answers. Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” Mrs. Averill curled a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I can’t see how that tone of yours is going to accomplish anything.”

Mr. Averill raised his hands. “Well, I have to get in my words now, just in case our son decides to flee the country again.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you asked me to leave,” Marcus said. “I didn’t think it would matter what country I lived in as long as I was gone.”

“Of course it matters. You running off like that was the coward’s way out. You thought you’d punish us for what I said, even though you knew they were words said in the heat of an argument.”

“Dad, I’m here to make amends in any way I can.” Marcus’s tone came off firm but respectful. “I want to once again say how sorry I am. But I don’t understand something. You say I’m punishing you for doing the very thing you asked me to do. I want to make things right, but how can I? It feels as though you’re making forgiveness unattainable.”

His mother scooted her chair back quickly as if she wanted to flee the room. “Forgiveness seems unattainable, Marcus, because your father has made it so.”

Mr. Averill slammed his fist down on the table. “Gerty, that’s enough. I will not allow you to—”

“Please,” Marcus said to his father. “Don’t speak to Mom that way. You can take it out on me all you want, but not on Mom. I won’t let you do that.”

Mr. Averill raised his chin and then said in an ominously low voice, “Well, this is my house, and—”

“No more, Charles,” Mrs. Averill said. “I have kept silent about this for too long. I’ve been trying to keep the peace, but this is an unhealthy kind of peace. It’s not real. I will say this … I can understand your anger at Marcus for what he did. He wasn’t using good sense that evening when he drove off with Ellie, but this rage has gone on too long.”

Mrs. Averill’s hands trembled as she put her napkin on the table. “I don’t know. It’s like you’re thrashing around in a cage, angry at the whole world. You’re mad at the girl at the grocery store checkout for not ringing you up fast enough. I never said anything, but you embarrassed me in front of one of my friends from church who was standing in line that day. The men who do our lawn are never speedy enough. Our dentist, our insurance agent, our pastor … you’ve written them all off for one reason or another. And your anger is destroying what’s left of our family. These last few months should have been a time of mending fences, but for you, it was a season of burning bridges.”

She stood and straightened her shoulders. “I love you, Charles, but this destructive behavior you have directed toward Marcus and me and God and the rest of the world has got to stop before it kills us all. That’s not what Ellie would have wanted.”

Mr. Averill huffed. “How do you know what Ellie wanted? She’s not here to defend herself. She’s dead. My girl is dead.”

“Yes, Ellie,
our
daughter, is dead.” Mrs. Averill pinched at a piece of the tablecloth. “But … Ellie loved our Lord, and I’m at peace with where she is. We’ll never forget her, of course, and we’ll never stop missing her until we can hold her again in the heavenly realms, but Charles, it’s time to be free of this anger and live again.”

“Seems like everyone wants to leave our daughter behind.” Mr. Averill pressed his fingers against his eyes. “Ellie was the dearest, sweetest thing. Never asked much of anyone. She wasn’t obsessed about fame or money. She was just Ellie.”

“Ellie was sweet and dear to all of us,” Mrs. Averill said, “but you’re looking at her life through rose-colored glasses now that she’s gone. That’s very common to do that. But Ellie had plenty of teenage angst along with the sweetness. And you’re looking at your son with no mercy whatsoever. No love. It’s not right. This isn’t what God wants for you or our family. And if I remember correctly you used to care about what God thought.”

Marcus remained silent.

I could barely breathe.

Mr. Averill spread his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “Well, I’m not so freewheeling with my forgiveness. Not when it comes to my flesh and blood.”

“But Marcus is your flesh and blood just like Ellie.”

Mr. Averill frowned at his wife. “But Ellie wasn’t a
murderer
.”

“Charles, I love you. I do. But that is the last time I will listen to you make that abominable remark about
our
son. Ellie’s death was an accident, and knowing my son the way I do I’m sure he’s awakened every morning of his life remembering the scene in punishing detail. Marcus certainly doesn’t need you to torture him. I’m sure he’s tormented himself plenty this past year, enough to last a lifetime.”

“What are you up to?” Mr. Averill crossed his arms. “You sound like you’re going somewhere, which is—”

“I am, Charles.” With great composure, Mrs. Averill said, “I’m leaving you.”

“
You can’t do that
.” Mr. Averill glowered at his wife.

“You no longer have any say in the matter.” Her expression was one of tranquility, but it wasn’t without despair.

“What? You already had this planned out?”

“I knew how this would go today. I prayed it would not, but there is such a thing as free will, and you’ve decided to go down this road … this path of bitterness. Well, it’s a path I can no longer travel with you. You see, it’s slowly killing me. My heart doctor says I cannot keep living under this kind of ongoing stress, or I will have a heart attack. Not just heart flutters and the racing heartbeat that sent me to the hospital several months ago, but the real thing. I want to save my health for you and for our son. I’d like to be alive in case God gives us the blessing of grandchildren. So, for now, I’m going.”

“But where will you live?” Mr. Averill rose from his chair.

“I’m not going to Australia,” she replied, “but I can understand why Marcus went that far. Maybe it’s not far enough. But I’m going to live with my friend Susanna out in the country. She’s invited me to stay. I’m not coming back until you’ve had counseling sessions with the pastor and you’ve proven that you mean to love this family again and not pour it full of hate.”

“This is preposterous. Silly, even. I won’t let you go.” His eyes flashed with fury.

“Yes, I thought you might say something like that.” Mrs. Averill’s wrinkles seemed to deepen. “But my bags are already packed.” She turned away from her husband and looked at me. “I’m sorry you heard all this, Lily. It was very upsetting for me to have a stranger see this side of us, but what’s done is done. I don’t know how you two feel about each other, but if it turns out to be serious, Lily, I hope you won’t hold this day against us as a family.”

“No, not at all.” I gave her my warmest smile.

“Good. We used to be a good and loving family, but we lost our way. Maybe that’s what happened to your sister. I’m glad she’s back home. Someday our son will be able to know home again, the way it used to be.”

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Averill.” I had no idea what more I could say. I wanted to comfort the woman, and yet I could sense that Marcus’s father wasn’t going to tolerate much more chatter.

“Thank you for that, Lily. I hope we can meet again in happier times … someday.” Mrs. Averill said to her son, “I love you. More than you know. I’m sorry this happened on your special day of homecoming. Please don’t feel this is your fault. With God’s help there will be better days.”

“I love you, Mom,” Marcus said. “And I’m sorry too.”

Mrs. Averill focused on her husband again. “Charles, there are meals in the freezer for two weeks ahead. But after that, you’ll be on your own. Marcus and Lily, please finish your lunch if you’d like. But if you’ll excuse me.”

Mr. Averill jolted toward his wife as if he were going to physically stop her from going, but she calmly looked at him. Something in her stare must have made him retreat, since he sat back down.