“These three rooms are yours.” Hattie gestured. “The library is decorated for Christmas and there’s a log fire going in there, so if you wanted to have tea once you’ve unpacked, I could arrange that.”
Anna took a quick look at Erica’s frozen expression and decided they might need something stronger than tea.
“Thank you, but we might go for a walk. The town looked so pretty.” She decided that the sooner the three of them were alone, the better. “I’m sure you’re very busy, so don’t let us keep you.”
As soon as Hattie walked away, Anna removed the key from Erica’s numb fingers and unlocked the door.
“Let’s get inside.” She pushed open the door and sighed with delight. The room was light and airy, thanks to two large windows, which had views toward snow-covered mountains. There was a fire, a comfy chair for reading and a small desk tucked under one of the windows. “It’s gorgeous. What a dreamy place. Is this room okay for you, Erica? Do you want to check out the others in case you prefer one of them?” Maybe Erica was just thinking that the place wasn’t for her. It was quaint and quirky, and Erica’s preferences leaned toward sleek and modern.
Erica didn’t even look around her. She just sat down hard on the bed.
Anna looked at Claudia.
Claudia closed the door firmly so that they were alone.
“Okay, tell us what’s going on. And don’t say it’s nothing.”
“It was something to do with that photograph, wasn’t it?” Anna sat down next to her and put her arm around Erica. “Tell us.”
“Or is it this place? You’ve been acting strangely the whole journey. Tense.” Claudia sat on the other side of her, protective. “If it’s just too quaint and Christmassy, we can leave. Find somewhere else.”
Erica made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You’d do that?”
“Of course.” Anna ignored the twinge of disappointment. The place was perfect, but this week was about people not places. Her friends. If it wasn’t perfect for Erica, then they would leave. “We love you. This is our special week. We want you to be happy and have fun. Is that what’s wrong? Is it this place?”
“Yes. No. Not exactly. Not in the way you think.” Erica rubbed her palm over her cheek and only then did Anna realize she was crying.
Erica. Crying.
Anna cried frequently. She cried at movies. She cried over books. She cried when she looked at photographs of the twins when they were little because they looked so cute, and those days had been so happy, and she was never going to have them back. She cried when Pete bought her flowers because it meant he’d thought about her during his day, and she cried whenever she drove away from her parents’ house after a visit because she loved them and they were growing older and she hated leaving them.
Erica never cried. She munched popcorn in sad movies; she shook her head in disbelief when her friends cried over sad books.
Anna’s heart split in two. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s your fault for being kind. Stop being kind.” Erica sniffed. “Does anyone have a tissue?”
“Anna will have a tissue,” Claudia said. “Anna has everything in that bag of hers. She could feed you and save a life.”
Anna dutifully produced a tissue and Erica took it from her.
“Thanks. Sorry. This is supposed to be a lighthearted getaway and I’m ruining it.”
“You’re not ruining anything.” Anna gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re your family.”
Erica gave a watery smile. “Pete and the kids, they’re your family.”
Anna heard the tremor of insecurity and was shocked by it. This wasn’t Erica. “Yes, but so are you. And I’ve never given you reason to doubt that. Neither has Claudia. The three of us have been a family since the day you stomped into our room and claimed the top bunk.”
“Is it a man? Is it Jack?” Claudia was scowling. “Because I can punch him. I’ve been practicing my punches. I’m good. I’d welcome some real-life practice.”
Erica pressed the tissue to her eyes. “It’s no one you can punch. It’s not Jack.” She drew in a quivering breath. “I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid of me. Bad decision. I should have been honest with you guys, so that you could have talked me out of it.”
“So it is this place. Right, that’s it.” Claudia pulled out her phone. “We’re going to find somewhere else right away. Where’s the nearest town, Anna? We’ll find somewhere to stay tonight, and then drive to Boston tomorrow. A week in Boston will be great. We can run alongside the Charles River, linger in coffee shops and pretend we’re young college students again.”
“It’s not this place. Not exactly.” Erica blew her nose and Anna handed her a fresh tissue.
“The photograph upset you. Hattie obviously had a close relationship with her dad.” She hesitated. “Did it make you sad, seeing her with her father?”
“Yes.” Erica screwed the tissue into a tiny ball. “Yes, it did.”
“He looked like a good guy.” Claudia glanced up from her phone. “A good dad. Hattie was lucky. Except that her husband died, so maybe not so lucky...” Her voice trailed off and she glanced at Anna for help.
Anna badly wanted to say the right thing, but didn’t know what the right thing was.
She wasn’t sure what this was about.
“It must hurt seeing a caring, loving dad when your own walked out when you were only minutes old.”
“It does hurt.”
“Hattie’s dad was a good person. Your dad wasn’t and that sucks.” Claudia paused. “I’m no good at this. I’m saying all the wrong things. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. It really does suck.” Erica screwed the tissue into a tiny ball. “Mostly because Hattie’s dad and my dad are the same person. The same guy.”
There was a long silence.
“What? What are you saying?” Anna’s head spun. “Hattie’s father?”
“Yes, Hattie’s father. That caring, loving dad.” Erica took the whole packet of tissues from Anna’s hand. “He was also my father. My dad. The one who walked out when I was eight minutes old.”
TEN
Erica
Erica stood up and walked to the window. Hattie was right. The view was incredible, but she wouldn’t have cared if she was looking at a parking lot. The feelings churning around inside her were new to her. She wasn’t used to feeling confused. She wasn’t used to admitting weakness, and right now she felt both weak and vulnerable.
Seeing that photograph had felled her. She felt as if someone had taken a baseball bat to her heart. As if everything inside her was being squeezed. She didn’t know this feeling. It might have been panic, except Erica had never panicked in her life so it couldn’t possibly be that.
She felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on her.
She’d arrived here thinking that she’d be able to take it slow, observe, find out what she needed to find out and then make a measured decision based on the facts. She hadn’t expected to be plunged deep into emotions so visceral she’d been robbed of breath.
Her thoughts and feelings about her father had all been acquired secondhand, given to her by her mother.
Some men can’t handle responsibility.