Molly O'Keefe - Family at Stake

“Are you going to see your mom?”

“Nope.”

“But it’s Mother’s Day.”

“So you said.” Rachel fought to swallow another bite of salad and whatever emotion was stuck in her throat. Anger? Guilt? Indifference? Probably indifference, she decided. It was all the feeling she had left for her mother. “It’s just another day, Olivia. Just another day.”

“Not to your mom, who would probably give her right arm to hear from you. Come on, Rachel, she’s forty minutes away.”

Might as well be on the far side of the moon, Rachel thought, and chucked a piece of lettuce at the birds.

“Let’s not spoil your first hour back among the living with talk of my mother, okay?” she asked nicely. She was a pro at dodging the mom questions. And since her dad had died five years after she left New Springs, and no one even knew she had a brother, she didn’t have to answer those questions at all. She liked it that way.

“Fine,” Olivia huffed, and then muttered “obstinado idiota” under her breath.

Rachel smiled and watched the birds squabbling over the limp lettuce. She threw them a piece of cucumber, her appetite suddenly vanished. She wasn’t an idiot. Idiots were people who kept throwing themselves against the rocky shores of their dysfunctional family. Trying to make things right. Trying to fix the past. Well, if there was one thing Rachel knew, it was that there was no fixing the past. The future, sure. The past was better forgotten.

“We’re having Nick’s family and mine for a barbecue all day,” Olivia said.

“Wow, that should be quite a party.”

“Why don’t you and Will come over to my house?” Olivia asked, and Rachel winced. There was no more Will in her life and Olivia’s fuse was going to blow when Rachel told her.

“Your godchildren are dying to see you—”

“No fair using your girls as bait,” Rachel laughed, though she would like to see Ruby and Louisa. It had been a few weeks since their last trip to the beach.

“And you can protect me from my mother-in-law,” Olivia suggested. “You guys can talk about whatever it is you Anglo folks—”

“Tupperware and English muffins.”

“That’s what you talk about?”

Rachel nodded. “Most of the time.”

Olivia laughed and Rachel decided to stop the conversation before it even got started. “Will and I broke up.”

“What?” Olivia’s eyes were wide. “When?”

“Last weekend.”

“No del oh—”

“Oh, stop. It’s hardly the end of the world.” Will had wanted a family, children, a home and a dog of some kind, and Rachel wanted none of that. Had, in fact, made it clear since the second date, which was why, when he asked her to move in, she had been so stunned. Angry and stunned.

Why do they do that? Think that two months of dinners, sex and Sunday brunch will change my mind.

“What happened?” Olivia stroked Rachel’s arm, and she twitched. Rachel didn’t really want Olivia’s pity and she really didn’t want any of the pats on the back and hugs and offers of ice cream gluttony that usually came with breakups.

“We wanted different things, Liv.”

I want the works, Will had said, his eyes wet as he’d watched Rachel pack her overnight bag. Family. Kids. I want to be needed. I want you to need me. And that’s never going to happen, is it?

Rachel with dry eyes and a cold heart had said no. Don’t pretend to be betrayed, Will. You knew how I felt about marriage and kids from the beginning. And then she’d picked up the stash of things she’d kept in his apartment and never looked back.

“You know…” Olivia looked at Rachel with so much compassion that Rachel had to pretend sudden interest in the cuff of her green cardigan. “We are not destined to become our mothers. That’s a lie. You will not become your mother, or your father. You can create your own family and it can work.”

Rachel sighed and looked up at the big blue California sky as if the answers to all of Olivia’s comments might be there and Rachel could just point and say, “Look.” But they weren’t, so Rachel was left to her usual spiel.

“Why is it when a woman decides she doesn’t want a family it somehow all relates to her mother? I just don’t want a family. That’s all, nothing nefarious. Just no thanks. Is that so hard to understand?”

“No, but I understand you’re chickenshit, that’s for sure!”

Rachel turned on Olivia, only to find her friend laughing. “You’re hilarious,” she said.

“Yes, I am.” Olivia set her bag on the files between them and stretched out her legs. Rachel’s attention was caught by that red flag that sat on top like a loaded weapon. “You know, I never really liked Will.”

“What?”

“Yeah—” Olivia scrunched up her face “—he was just a little too…shiny. He used hair gel. Men shouldn’t use hair gel. Even if they are investment bankers.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Rachel muttered. She turned her head so she could see the name on the file label. It started with an A.

“Yeah, he was too together, like he’s played it safe his whole life. You need a man who knows what it’s like to be a little out of control.”

“Your insights into my love life are spectacular, really, but—”

“You are not getting any younger.” Olivia crossed her legs, and the hem of her skirt lifted and settled around her knees. Her toenails, though chipped and faded, were painted pink to match almost the entirety of her wardrobe, but in the center of each was a red rose. Olivia called her homemade pedicures the ultimate accessory.

“I’m thirty, Liv. Hardly ready to pack it in.”

“I’m just saying…”

Rachel wiggled her pale naked toes and figured out the key to getting the red-arrow case and Olivia off her back without having to suffer through any more talk of mothers and men in one fell swoop.

“How about I come over on Saturday and let you do my toes.”

“Really?” Olivia lit up like a Christmas tree. “You haven’t let me at your toes in months, and frankly, sweetheart, they look like you’ve been taking care of them with your teeth.”

Rachel curled her feet under the bench. “I’ll come over on one condition.”

“I know, no dragons.” Olivia nodded, reiterating Rachel’s rule for whenever Olivia did her toes. Dragons looked good on some people, but Rachel believed she wasn’t one of them.

“I’ll take the red-arrow case,” Rachel said, and watched the pride ignite in Olivia’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do that,” Olivia said firmly. “I can handle the workload.”

“You shouldn’t even have it. You’re administration now.”

“Frank always kept his hand in. I can do it, too.”

“Sure, maybe after you’ve had some experience. This is a red arrow, Liv. Not a truancy or welfare fraud. Take the damn help.” Rachel urged. “Second Golden Rule—take help when you need it.”

Olivia was silent for a moment. “You think I need it?”

“I think you’re one week away from drooling in a straitjacket.”

Olivia’s laugh flooded Rachel with relief. “Okay.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Rachel flashed Olivia a smile, picked up the file and flipped through the paperwork. The nice steady hum of adrenaline entered her veins.

She scanned the information at the top of the page. “She’s from my old stomping grounds.”

Olivia’s face mirrored Rachel’s surprise. New Springs was a sleepy agricultural town on the edge of the desert. It was a medium-size town, quiet.

It was an eerie coincidence and the hair on her neck went stiff. She turned to the second page and the picture of the young girl with a sneer, tangled blond hair and eyes so angry and hurt at the same time that Rachel felt like she was looking at herself at that age.