Page 27 of Henhouse
“Spare meyour opinions, Effie. It doesn’t matter. He kept it from me.”
“So you’re not even going to talk to him?”
“No, and neither are you,” Hope said with such finality Effie wondered if there would ever come a day when she would rightfully and truly win an argument.
“Fine,” Effie huffed. “But don’t act like you’re being any better.”
“It’smybody!”
“It’s his baby!” Effie screamed.
Hope rose from the table, leaning heavily on it like she was aboutto breathe fire in Effie’s face. “I mean it, Effie. Stay out of it. Don’t see Brayden or Theo or any of them. Find other friends to experiment having a life with.”
“You can’t tell me who to hang out with. Schilling is a nice guy, we were starting to get along as real friends. And Theo, well—”
“Theo has a girlfriend. He obviously doesn’t want you.”
If Hope saw how Effie’s heart bled at her words, she didn’t show it. Effie wanted to yell even louder, scream in Hope’s face that she was not everyone’s punching bag, but instead, she did as she always does. She took a deep breath and looked at Hope deeply. She saw the bubble of hurt behind her eyes ready to pop, the anxiety in the white-knuckle grip on the table, the walls that were being built around her block by block so second-chance citizens would need a grappling hook to access her warmth and her heart. Hope’s anger and fear were talking. It wasn’t Hope. Effie knew that even if Hope didn’t. But if she loved her, she had to help her see that she pushed away something good, maybe even fantastic.
Effie summoned her nerve, took a deep breath and whispered, “He loves you.” Bright, thirst-quenching lemon water slid over Effie’s tongue. “He loves you so much.”
Hope barely looked at her. Didn’t register the tears that were returning to Effie’s eyes. “Please, just stay out of it,” she barked.
Dorothea and Louisa shuffled into the room, the former in a quilted robe that brushed her ankles.
“Would you two keep it down?” Louisa scolded.
“What’s going on?” Dorothea asked, settling her drowsy bones on the seat beside Effie. Hope moved to exit the kitchen.
“Effie’s poking her nose where it doesn’t belong . . . again.” Effie’sheart stopped as Hope turned to Louisa. “You might want to ask her about Gil.” She stormed out of the room on a wave of fear and ignorance so big, Effie wondered if it would drown her.
Louisa’s brow ruffled. “What is she talking about?”
“Louisa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . I only wanted you to feel loved.”
“What did you do?” she demanded.
Dorothea took hold of Effie’s trembling hand, worry painted on her lips. Effie was fried. She wasn’t sure she could handle another argument, but she knew Louisa wouldn’t let it go. “It was before Hazel was born, about a week before your shower. I went to Mario’s with Hope. We sat in the bar and Gil was there with one of his friends. He didn’t see us come in. We were seated right behind him at a high-top, so I heard everything . . . his friend asked about you and the baby, and he said with such conviction that the baby probably wasn’t even his. That as soon as she arrived he was demanding a paternity test.”
Louisa bit back a laugh like she’d expect nothing less from Gil. “And what does that have to do with you?” Her tone indicated she thought Hope had started some drama out of nothing, but Effie knew it wasn’t nothing.
She wasn’t sure she could get the words out. Her throat was dry, her tongue thick. “When I went out to get the balloons from my car for your shower a few days later, I saw him standing on the curb. He was dipping—which I knew he told you he’d stopped doing. I confronted him.” A metallic bite tingled her taste buds. “I told him what I’d heard and said he was daft if he thought you’d try to trap him. Told him how wonderfully bright and amazing his life with you could be. He insisted he was still demanding the test. I told him if he was going to break your heart, why wait?”
Louisa was stoic and Effie’s tears spilled over.
“I didn’t want that beautiful little girl to come into this world surrounded by anyone who didn't already love her,” Effie sobbed. “I didn’t want you to break on the happiest day of your life. I’m the reason he left. I challenged him. I pushed him toward it. I’m so sorry, Lou. I’m so, so sorry.”
Effie stole her hand back from Grams and buried her face in her palms. She cried for what she’d done, for Hope’s harsh words, for the crushed friendship with Schilling, and for the ache in her chest that never really went away. It didn’t do to let things build up this badly. She felt utterly insane and like she was overreacting to the umpteenth degree. But that knowledge didn’t stop the tears. The dam had burst and now she had to ride it out.
Louisa eased off of her seat and came to kneel before her sister, grabbing Effie’s wrists and pulling her hands from her face, so they rested on her lap. The only thing behind Louisa’s eyes was an unwavering calm. She gripped Effie’s hands with one of hers and used the other to brush the fat drops from Effie’s flushed cheeks.
Grams watched them silently from the other side of the table.
“I think,” Louisa whispered, pausing to clear her throat, “that if the worst thing you’ve done is challenge a man to reevaluate his priorities in the name of protecting me, my heart, my honor . . . then you truly are the best of us, Effie Rose.” Louisa took Effie’s face in both of her hands and brought her bow of a mouth to rest on Effie’s forehead, planting the most tender of kisses. “You are far too hard on yourself.”
Effie threw her arms around Louisa and pulled her tight. She missed her sister. Missed their late-night slumber parties beneath sheet-walled forts, the way that Louisa used to brush and braid herhair for school. How she, Hope, and Effie had once been a trio at the Book and Bar or down at the beach. The space between them had grown so big that Effie didn’t know how to reclaim it. Didn’t know if she could. “I thought you’d pitch into a classic Louisa screaming fit if you found out,” Effie admitted into Louisa’s sleep-mussed braid.
“I’m not sure any of us miss those,” Grams chirped from behind them.
