Page 59 of Between Now and Forever

“I know. I just thought you might need me.”

“I don’t need you,” he says, and then he’s gone. Fiona watches as the back of my father’s dark head disappears from view.

“Look what you’ve done,” she says to no one in particular, the tremor in her voice mirrored by the one in her hands as she gathers her things and runs out of the room.

I’m sure he’s already halfway down the hall. I imagine his long legs devouring the ground as he strides toward the exit. As he passes, the nurses and patients in the hallway stop and watch him, as if he’s his own one-man parade.

I count down from twenty and am only on fifteen when Fiona stumbles back into the room. My father usually makes quick work of her, but I think this is a new record.

She looks dazed and sad. “I’ve called my driver. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” She avoids my eyes and sits down, her gaze fixed on the wall. Her discomfort and desire to be left alone, unambiguous.

She’s studiously avoided being alone with me for years now. Fortunately, I feel the same way about her. To say that we are complete opposites is an understatement of criminal proportions.

My relationship with Fiona, even when I was a little girl, was marked by the crushing disappointment on her face every time she looked at me. She married my father and thought she was getting a ready-made family. At her wedding shower, one she invited me to even though I was only seven years old at the time, she told the room full of women to find a man who already has kids, and they could preserve their waistline to make sure they were their husband’s second andlastwife. They’d all laughed.

Soon, though, she learned the law according to Drew Fox. Heirs and spares or you’re out on your ear. My brother, Phil, was already showing signs of being less than willing to step into my father’s shoes. James was his golden child, but he needed insurance, so he kept having children. My mother birthed him a girl—me—last before he decided that she wasn’t up to the challenge. So, Fiona had a ton of pressure to reproduce.

But alas, ten years later and their marriage proved to be a fruitless one. Miscarriage after miscarriage turned our house into a ferris wheel of life before, during, and after in vitro. She prayed and prayed. And then two months ago, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, she announced she was pregnant.

Suddenly, Fiona was smug again. This baby wasn’t just the child she’d always wanted. He was her anchor to my father and her shield from gossip. She called her pregnancy a miracle straight from God.

“My car is here,” she says as she stands and comes to look down at James.

“Such a shame. He was such a handsome boy.”

“He stillis,” I say, not hiding my annoyance at her speaking of him in the past tense.

She smiles, a fake smile that shows every shade of her disdain.

“Of course, dear. But, let’s just hope this little one is a boy.” She places a hand on her still flat stomach.

My heart twists in compassion for my little brother or sister already. His parents are completely fucked up.

When I don’t respond, she turns to leave. Only once she’s gone do I allow myself the luxury of honest emotions. I gaze down at my brother. He’s the last hook in the anchor that keeps me grounded. I’m sick to see how badly he’s hurt, but I’m indescribably grateful that he’s alive.

* * *

“Clover?”

I gasp and look up to find James’s bright blue eyes searching my face. His expression is so serene. Even though he’s smiling at me, I can tell that he’s not really seeing me.

“I thought we agreed to leave that nickname behind us.”

His laugh is a dry, brittle imposter of his real laugh, but I’m relieved to hear it.

“For old times’ sake, right?” He smiles.

“I guess. You just missed Fiona.“

“No, I heard all of it. I just kept my eyes closed until they left.”

I laugh in surprise.

“I love your laugh,” he says.

I give him a disbelieving side eye.

“Don’t think I don’t remember the Mr. Ed jokes you made every time I laughed.”

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