Forever, With You Page 13
“Chantelle?” Emily called out, feeling a little panicked.
“I’m here,” came a small voice.
Emily raced into the room and peered through the darkness. Chantelle was curled up in a ball on the floor behind her bed.
“What are you doing down there?” Emily asked. She’d never seen Chantelle in such a strange posture. “Do you have a tummy ache?”
She went over and touched the little girl lightly. Chantelle flinched.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked, feeling even more concerned than ever. Just an hour ago, Chantelle had been running around boisterously, clearly having the time of her life. Now she was lying here in the dark, despondent. Emily noticed the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Honey, whatever it is, you can tell me. Are you sick?” she guessed. “Did you fight with one of your friends?”
Suddenly Chantelle sat up. Her hair was a mess, and the eyeliner she’d put under her eyes as part of her costume was smeared across her face. She looked even more frightful in that state than she had when she’d been trying to look like a ghost.
“It’s Mom,” she finally stammered, and then her tears began to fall in torrents.
Emily watched the little girl shaking with sobs. She tried to comfort her but every time she touched Chantelle the child would scoot away, widening the distance between them.
“What about your mom?” Emily asked, trying to sound as soft and nonconfrontational as possible. It wasn’t often the girl brought her mother up. In fact, over the last few weeks, she’d barely mentioned her at all. Emily couldn’t begin to fathom what had triggered this episode.
“I thought she would call,” Chantelle wailed.
“Why?” Emily asked.
Sheila hadn’t called once since Chantelle had been entrusted into their care. Why today of all days would Chantelle wish to speak to her mom? Was it something to do with Halloween? Perhaps it had triggered a sudden flashback in the child like Emily herself sometimes experienced?
Chantelle lifted her head up from where she’d let it drop on her knees. She looked at Emily wearily, her expression one of complete devastation.
“I thought that she would call at the very least,” Chantelle said, snuffling on her sobs. “Since it’s my birthday.”
Emily felt herself turn to ice. Birthday? Today? The little girl she’d grown to love had turned seven and she’d done nothing to celebrate, to commemorate the occasion.
“Sometimes,” Chantelle continued, “Mom would take me to see a movie on my birthday. Once we went to see a Disney movie and we ate popcorn and drank soda.” She smiled sadly and wiped the blond hair from her eyes. She snuffled on her sobs. “But Mom started shaking real bad and we had to leave before the end. As we went, there were all these stuffed toys and I asked Mom if she’d buy me one for my birthday but she said we couldn’t afford it and she started to cry.”
It broke Emily’s heart listening to Chantelle speak. Didn’t the child have a single happy memory from her childhood? Had every experience she’d shared with Sheila been under the dark umbrella of drug dependency? It was tragic.
“Doesn’t Mom love me anymore?” Chantelle said suddenly. For the first time she reached out to Emily, seeking comfort.
Emily swept her up in her arms, relieved to be making physical contact again; the distance had been agonizing.
“She loves you so much,” she said, soothing Chantelle. “But she’s ill and it makes her forgetful. That’s all.”
Chantelle began sobbing again in earnest. “I wish you were my mom,” she wailed. “You make everything nice.”
Emily felt a shard lodge in her chest. She clung to Chantelle, rocking the little girl in her arms as she sobbed herself into slumber.
*
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emily cried at Daniel down in the kitchen. “It’s her birthday! I found that little girl sobbing her eyes out in the dark, on the hard, cold floor, wondering why her mom didn’t love her enough to call her on her birthday.”
Daniel looked devastated. “I didn’t know, Emily. I didn’t know it was her birthday.”
“Didn’t you think to ask?” Emily exclaimed. “Somewhere between finding out you had a kid and rescuing her from her life of deprivation didn’t you stop to wonder when her goddamn birthday was?”
She gripped the worktop, her stomach roiling with emotion. She couldn’t stop herself from exploding with rage, not just at Daniel for his lack of foresight and care, but for the stupid world that had given Chantelle such a rotten start. The sense of grief Emily felt on Chantelle’s behalf was overwhelming. If only she’d known it was her birthday she could have done something, could have approached Sheila. Hell, she’d even fake a card from the absent mother if it meant saving Chantelle from that heartbreak.
“We have to do something special for her,” Emily said, trying to calm herself by breathing. “Let’s get the Halloween decorations down and bake a cake.”
Daniel glanced around at the unfathomable amount of mess that had been created during the party. “Emily, I think we need to calm down a bit. I’ll get her a card in the morning, pick up a cake from Karen’s. Vanessa can pick up the house during her shift tomorrow.”
But Emily wasn’t having it. “No way. We are turning this house into a goddamn princess fairy castle or Alice’s Wonderland if it takes us all night. Now get baking!”
Daniel sighed heavily. “You’re overreacting.”
“You didn’t see her,” Emily said, her voice sinking. “She didn’t even tell us. She didn’t even know that her birthday should be celebrated.” Now it was Emily’s turn to cry. The tears began rolling down her cheeks. “All she knew was that her mom didn’t care. It didn’t even cross her mind to ask her dad for love and affection on her birthday. Daniel, it’s things like this that we need to do everything in our power to change. These attitudes that she holds. That little girl didn’t realize that on her birthday she’s allowed to be the center of everyone’s attention. She thinks she doesn’t matter. That’s not an overreaction.”
Daniel finally nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was looking at it from the eyes of a jaded thirty-something.” He smiled wryly. “Let’s give her something special to wake up to.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emily woke bleary-eyed the next morning, having spent half the night preparing the inn for Chantelle’s birthday. The moment she realized it was morning she leapt out of bed.
“Daniel, get up, quick,” she hissed as she fumbled to get her clothes on.
Daniel looked exhausted. “I need coffee,” he murmured.
Like Emily, he’d worked flat out for hours taking down the fake spiders’ webs and sweeping up all the flour that had been used as pretend dust, before blowing up sparkly pink balloons and hanging bright streamers.
They stumbled downstairs together, through the pink lacy fabric they’d hung along the staircase, bumping shoulders on the way down the steps, then rushed along the hallway that was now filled with fairy lights and pretty silk flowers. But as they entered the kitchen they realized that they were too late; Chantelle was awake and sitting placidly at the table.
Daniel and Emily froze in the doorway. Chantelle looked from one to the other.
“You changed the decorations,” she said flatly. Her gaze roved over to the banner that Daniel had painted last night, hanging across the kitchen window. It proclaimed “Happy Seventh Birthday Chantelle!” in bright sparkly pink lettering.
“We wanted to do something special for your birthday,” Emily explained. “We feel really bad for not knowing it was yesterday.”
Chantelle’s expression was unreadable. Emily couldn’t tell whether she was happy or sad, annoyed that they’d missed the exact day or pleased that they’d gone out of their way to make it up to her.
“You do like balloons, don’t you?” Daniel asked, glancing around at the brightly colored balloons strewn all over the wooden floors. He and Emily had spent at least an hour blowing them all up.
Chante
lle’s gaze skimmed the balloons. She nodded, but still looked somewhere between bemused and irritated. It was almost as if she was in shock and couldn’t take it all in. That someone would go to all this effort for her seemed to be confusing to the little girl. Emily couldn’t help but feel depressed at the thought.
“I made some cupcakes so you can take them to all your friends at school,” Emily said.
She went to the fridge and brought out two huge Tupperware containers filled with cupcakes that she’d baked in the middle of the night. Each was frosted beautifully, half with pink frosting and half with blue.
“Thanks,” Chantelle said, her voice still completely flat. “I think I need to get to school now, don’t I?”
Emily looked over at the wall clock. Chantelle was right; she and Daniel had completely overslept and now there wasn’t even time for breakfast. They’d exhausted themselves trying to make sure everything was special for Chantelle and in doing so had let her down by not waking up early enough to surprise her with it. Emily felt heavy with disappointment.
“Let’s get these in the truck,” she said, picking up the Tupperware containers. “I’ll let Miss Glass know they are for your birthday.”
Chantelle nodded and slid down from the kitchen stool. As they walked through the hall toward the door, Emily gave Daniel a worried look. They’d screwed up, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was feeling as bad as she was.
*
After waving goodbye to Chantelle at the school gates, Emily rushed around congregating the parents of all her friends.
“Can you guys come to a last-minute birthday party?” she asked them frantically. She looked at Daniel, sheepish to admit their situation. “We didn’t know that Chantelle’s birthday was on Halloween. We need to make it up to her big time.”
Yvonne looked horrified. “You didn’t know?”
Her tone was one of disbelief. It made Emily feel even worse. How had they failed so badly at parenting the little girl?
Daniel shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Chantelle’s mother didn’t communicate it to us.” He looked beyond ashamed.
Ryan’s father shook his head. “We can’t come tonight,” he said. “There’s a huge storm coming. We’re going to get our kids straight home from school and hunker down for the evening.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”
This was the first Emily had heard of a storm. She chewed her lip with anxiety as she recalled the devastation the last two storms had inflicted on the inn. “We have a huge basement. It’s very safe. It’s pretty much a bomb shelter.”
Gabriella’s mother sighed deeply. “As lovely and safe as that sounds, Emily, I think we would all feel better in our own homes during a storm. I’m sure you understand?” She touched her hand lightly.
Some of the parents began to walk away. Emily reached out for Suzanna.
“You’ll come, won’t you?” she pleaded. “For Chantelle?”
Her friend sighed deeply. “Of course I will,” she said with resignation. “Chantelle deserves a party.”
“We’ll be there too,” Yvonne said. “Me, Kieran, and Bailey.”
Daniel nodded his gratitude and Emily let out a relieved sigh. She was touched that her new friends would go out of their way to help them and support Chantelle.
But as they headed home, Emily’s thoughts turned to the impending storm. The inn had already been battered several times; how would she be able to afford to patch up any more damage? Always at the back of her mind she had the ticking clock of the back taxes that needed paying. With no guests booking into the inn, paying them off in time seemed impossible. And now there was a storm coming, too? Sometimes it felt like the Universe was conspiring to compound Emily’s stress.
In the passenger seat of the pickup truck, Emily worried her hands, her mind frantic with anxiety. Could they survive another hit?
*
That evening, Chantelle sat quietly on the couch, her legs tucked up beneath her as she read a book. Emily watched the clock expectantly, waiting to see if Yvonne and Suzanna were going to keep their promises. She hadn’t said anything about the party to Chantelle yet, worried that she would get the little girl’s hopes up only to dash them later. That was the last thing the poor child needed.
From the window, Emily could see that the sky was darkening. Thick, black clouds rolled in off the ocean. Emily worried that her friends might change their minds at the sight of the impending storm. It looked like it was going to be a bad one. But at last, the doorbell rang.
Chantelle cocked her head to the side and frowned as Emily leapt up from the sofa and rushed to answer the door. In the hall, she bumped into Daniel, who was also sprinting for the door, ripping the pink streamers from the wall in his clumsy haste.
When Emily pulled the front door open she saw Yvonne and Kieran with Bailey, and Suzanna and Wesley with Toby. All of them were wrapped up in their warm winter coats, their noses turning red from the cold.
“You came,” Emily said with a sigh.
“Of course we did,” Yvonne replied, reaching out and squeezing Emily’s arm.
“Quick, get inside,” Daniel said, poking his head out the door and frowning with trepidation at the thick black clouds.
They stomped into the inn just as the first fat raindrops plopped from the sky. Yvonne looked around at the sparkly pink-themed decorations.
“You did all this since last night?” she said, looking impressed.
“It took hours,” Emily replied.
Yvonne frowned. “I’m sure it did. But why pink? I thought Chantelle hated pink.”
Emily paled and looked at Daniel. No wonder Chantelle had been so despondent; they’d decorated the house in a way she hated! They should have known their fearless daughter who wanted the house to be as ghoulish as possible on Halloween wouldn’t want a fairy-themed birthday party. Emily wanted to kick herself for her stupidity. She still had a lot to learn about being a mom.
Chantelle peered out from the living room. When she saw Toby and Bailey her eyes widened with excitement.
“Happy birthday!” the kids cried, rushing towards her.
Emily was relieved to at last see Chantelle smile. They all went into the kitchen. Emily kicked all the stupid sparkly balloons out of the way, though Bailey liked them, at least. Toby stomped around popping them, which Emily deduced was probably for the best.
As Daniel took Chantelle’s birthday cake from the fridge, Emily wished she hadn’t made such a silly, girlish pink cake. But thankfully Chantelle clapped with delight. Clearly the presence of her friends had been enough to lift her mood, even if the party theme wasn’t to her taste. Seeing her smile was enough for Emily and Daniel to let out the breaths they’d been holding since they first discovered that they’d missed Chantelle’s birthday. The girl was happy, finally, and everything seemed to be forgiven. They exchanged a smile as the children tucked into the sponge cake with strawberry filling and white butter icing.
Suddenly, a clap of thunder boomed out. The children screamed with nervous excitement. From the utility room Mogsy and Rain began to bark feverishly. All the adults looked from one to the other.
“Time to get into the basement?” Yvonne asked.
This seemed to excite the children even more. Emily should have realized that Chantelle would be more excited by a creepy basement party than the streamers and balloons they’d put out.
“Is there treasure in your basement?” Bailey asked in her usual hurried voice, her eyes wide with excitement.
Emily thought of her father’s vaults, of the jewels she had found inside one of them, and the others she’d yet to crack open.
“Yes,” she said, grinning. “A famous bank robber stashed his treasure down there. If you can work out the secret codes to the vaults then you might find something exciting.”
She handed them each a flashlight, and they rushed off, babbling about thieves and secret treasure troves. Daniel grinned at Emily, clearly proud of he
r imagination. But as a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room his grin faded.
“Better close the shutters,” he said, trotting off upstairs as a crash of thunder rocked the house.
Following him, Emily shuddered and prayed the old house would stay in one piece for her. They rushed from room to room, listening to the sound of lashing rain against the window panes. The wind roared, making the glass rattle in their frames.
Up on the third floor, Emily caught sight of the roaring ocean in the distance. It looked black and angry, with churning waves. As she looked on she felt that familiar sensation of being sucked into a memory, into the memory of Charlotte losing grasp of her hand in the storm. But Emily fought it. She didn’t want to go back to that time. She couldn’t. She needed to stay in the present moment, to keep her family safe from the ferocious storm.
To her surprise, it worked. Through sheer force of will, Emily remained in the present day. As the threat of another blackout seeped away, her panicked heartbeat began to slow.
A second later lightning forked across the sky. If Emily hadn’t been so scared she would have been awestruck by the majesty of it. But her concern for the inn was too great, and so she rushed off again, closing shutters.
On the second floor, Emily and Daniel bumped into each other.
“All done?” he asked.
She nodded. Thunder boomed. Daniel grabbed her hand for reassurance and they rushed down to the bottom floor. The whole house seemed to be shaking, creaking, groaning, as though it wanted to rip itself from the ground and take flight.
Together they rushed into the kitchen to shut the room up. Emily couldn’t help but think of the awful night her kitchen had been ripped to pieces and she desperately hoped that history would not repeat itself.