The Motherhood Intervention: Book 3 in the Intervention Series Page 10

  “It’s okay to ask for help,” Josie said. “We already know you’re Super Mom.”

  All three of them jumped when the doorbell rang.

  ***

  When Summer and Derek brought Sarah home, Julie sent them a singing telegram. When they brought Nate home, she sent them a basket of movies, snacks and champagne. With Luke, it was a greeting card stuffed with gift cards for restaurants and movie theaters so they could go on a date. Finally, when Hannah arrived, Julie sent them a huge bouquet of flowers and a bottle of fancy whiskey, with a little note: To the best parents I’ve ever known. You’re gonna need this.

  So when the doorbell rang the same day they brought Olivia home, Summer felt a glimmer of happiness. Maybe Julie had sent her some sleeping pills. To give the kids. Summer glanced around to see if anyone had noticed her train of thought. She was relieved she hadn’t said it out loud. She’d never really give them sleeping pills. Would she? The idea had some merit.

  Derek emerged from the back of the house to answer the door. Summer couldn’t wait to see what it was. This was almost like Christmas morning. She stood up, and sat down abruptly when she saw who was there.

  Willow.

  Couldn’t the woman get a clue?

  She’d let Derek deal with it, she thought. Then she heard him inviting Willow in. She heard her say something, and could tell from the tone of her voice it was scathing. Probably about the state of the house. Or Derek’s shirt, which was stained with spaghetti sauce. “Well, I’ve been on my own with the kids for a couple of days,” Derek said, his tone bordering on apologetic.

  Summer felt the insane urge to get up, fold laundry, pick up toys, stack books or grab the sponge out of Josie’s hand and wash some dishes. But she remained seated.

  Willow walked through the living room, craning her neck like a bird. “Where’s Summer?” she said, but spotted her before Derek answered, and then picked her way into the kitchen.

  “Hi, honey,” she said, leaning against the kitchen doorway and folding her arms. “This place is a mess. You must feel so overwhelmed.”

  In her peripheral vision, Summer saw Josie inhale and hold her breath. Warning bells sounded.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Josie said. She held up the sponge. “We’re helping out.”

  Willow raised her eyebrows and let her eyes scan the kitchen countertops. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job, I dare say, ladies.”

  Josie stared at Willow for a long moment, and Summer could practically hear the thoughts going through her mind. Surprisingly, she didn’t respond.

  “Wow,” Delaney whispered. “I’ve never seen Josie speechless. Ever.”

  “Summer, I have some concerns,” Willow said. “You’ve never been a very good housekeeper, and now you have five little urchins working against you. Plus this guy.” She jerked her thumb in Derek’s direction. Now he was speechless. “I know how men are,” she said when she saw the surprised expression on his face. “You need help.”

  “I was thinking of hiring a housekeeper,” Summer lied, grasping onto the girls’ idea as if it were her own.

  Willow shook her head. “No. What you need is someone to mind the kids while you clean.”

  Josie found her voice. “We’ll help her, Mrs.—Willow. That’s what we’re here for. We were here when she had Sarah, and Nate, and Luke and Hannah. And we’re here for her now. We can mind kids and do chores. And Summer may not be the best housekeeper, but you know what? She’s a good wife and a damned good mother. She and Derek are doing everything right. These kids are happy. They’re healthy, they eat good food and they’re dirty all the time. More importantly, they’re kind. Which is more than I can say for you. So it may look like Summer needs help, but I’ll tell you what. She is doing just fine—no, spectacularly—without it. Instead of tearing her down, you should be telling her how proud you are.”

  Willow didn’t bother looking surprised.

  “Damned right I’m proud,” she said. “Everything she does right is a reflection on me. I fed her only organic food when she was growing up. I always provided her with a safe home. She was happy. She was healthy. I mean, she must be healthy, right? She can procreate like nobody’s business. But the one thing I could never drill into her head was how to clean a damned floor. She wasn’t a good housekeeper as a child, and she isn’t one now. And that’s why she needs help. Which is why, as of today, I’ll be staying here.”

  ***

  In the silence that stretched like already-chewed bubble gum after Willow’s announcement, Summer had yet another vivid flashback of her childhood.

  The memory of Willow’s lesson on cleaning floors, or work ethic, or both, flared to life in brilliant colors and sounds. Summer was eight or nine. Willow went to “run errands,” and told Summer that once she cleaned the kitchen floor, she could ride her bike to the creek. Summer spent an hour on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with a rag. She had the radio on, and scrubbed in time to “Don’t Worry Be Happy” and “Heaven is a Place on Earth.”

  When she was done, she emptied the bucket in the backyard like Willow had taught her to, hung the rags on the clothesline and rode to the creek. She spent what felt like a long time sending little leaf boats down the current, and then another long time laying on the bank, listening to the water.

  The sun began to set, illuminating the leaves on the trees and making the water sparkle. Summer rode home. She walked into the house, relishing the feel of the fan blowing cool on her sunburned skin. Deadly quiet met her, and she felt the hairs on her arms prickle with apprehension. Was it at that moment Summer realized “running errands” was actually a euphemism for going to buy bourbon?

  “Where have you been?” Willow’s voice sounded eerie, ghostlike. Summer couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

  “I rode down to the creek. You said I could. After I—”

  “After you cleaned the floor, yes. After. You. Cleaned. The. Floor.”

  Summer knew the floor was clean when she left. She checked it before sliding into her flip flops and riding away. She didn’t say as much, but when Willow grabbed her by the upper arm and marched her into the kitchen, she knew what had happened. Willow had come home, made herself a drink, and dripped a trail of water or bourbon on the floor. Then she’d tracked it all the way from the counter near the refrigerator to the living room.

  Willow pointed out every droplet of dirty water, every smudge, and the single Summer-sized footprint.

  “Clean it again,” she said, her words cutting into Summer’s conscience so smoothly she believed for a moment the bourbon trail was her fault.

  Then, as Summer obeyed, her arms burning from the effort, Willow stood over her, inspecting every stroke as if their lives depended on having a clean floor. Between gulps of her drink, she spit her words out in time to Summer’s scrubbing: “This. Is. Why. We. Have. Cockroaches. Mice. Flies. This. Is. Why. We. Live. In. Filth. Becauseyouarealazygirl.”

  The fear of her teardrops landing on the floor was the only thing that kept Summer from crying. Inside, she could feel the tiny embers of an emotion she rarely experienced: anger. Willow said she could go to the creek. Willow came home to a clean floor and then messed it up herself. Now she was blaming Summer. As the words comprising Willow’s accusations tumbled together, Summer began to hate her mother.

  ***

  The grown-up Summer stood in the kitchen of her adulthood, her body sore from giving birth, her heart pounding way too fast, her vision going black around the edges. The anger was back. She wouldn’t allow Willow (or her poisonous vibes) to remain in this house.

  “You will not be staying here,” she said quietly, the floor-scrubbing rhythm providing a beat for her words. “Leave my home.”

  Again, Willow raised her eyebrows. Summer hated that expression. She wished she could tear those eyebrows right off that smug face.

  Inexplicably, Derek chose this moment to step forward. “I think she should stay.”

  No, he hadn’t
seen the film reel in Summer’s mind. No, he had no idea, not really, of Willow’s true personality. Summer had never shared the details with him. And no, he probably didn’t want to get punched in the face. Summer felt her fist curl at her side.

  Where is all this imagined violence coming from? Oh. Yes. Winter. Welcome back, sweetheart.

  “Well, you think wrong,” Summer said to Derek. Willow’s expression became even more smug. As if that were possible.

  “We could use the help,” Derek said. “I can’t take much more time off work, and won’t it ease your mind to have someone to help with the cleaning and cooking?”

  “Someone else, maybe!” Summer said. “She can’t even cook!” She flinched at the screechy sound of her own voice.

  “It’s been fifteen years since we’ve spoken, honey. I’ve learned a thing or two,” Willow said.

  Is it my imagination, or does she actually look hurt that I don’t want her here?

  Summer sighed. Neither Delaney nor Josie had moved. Not an inch.

  “I’ll tell you what she’ll do,” Summer said to Derek, to the girls and to the room. “She’ll sit on the couch with a cigarette in her hand, giving our kids lung cancer, watching some stupid soap opera, demanding that I bring her food and criticizing every move I make. She won’t help. She isn’t capable.”

  “We could use the help,” Derek said again. Summer found herself hating Derek, too.

  This is a first, Winter said to Summer, and Summer pinched her own arm to shut Winter up.

  “We don’t need help!” Summer said.

  “Yes, you do,” Josie said.

  “Oh, no. Not you, too,” Summer tried to whirl toward Josie like she’d read about people doing in books, but her body was too tired to whirl. Instead, it did a slow revolution.

  “You’ve just seen a perfect example of how she can be,” Summer said.

  “You know my opinion,” Josie said.

  Josie’s opinion was that Summer should try to reconnect with Willow. But Josie was thinking about her own mother, a kind and loving saint compared to Willow.

  “It’s not the same at all,” Summer snapped.

  “Looks like you’ve been outvoted, honey,” Willow said.

  “Outvoted about what?” Nate flew into the room, sensing an injustice. “I didn’t get to vote!”

  “There was no vote,” Summer said. “You didn’t miss anything.”

  “Well, then, what are you guys talking about?” Luke said.

  “When did you get here?” Summer asked him.

  “I sneaked in, like a ninja,” he said.

  He grinned at her, and her resolve softened. She still wanted to punch Derek in the face, though. And Willow, too. And, for that matter, Josie with her righteousness. She wanted Willow here about as much as she wanted someone to pull her toenails out with pliers.

  But it was true: she and Derek could use the help. With Derek working, school and fall sports starting up soon, and a brand new baby at home, an extra pair of hands would be nice. But did Willow’s count?

  Couldn’t she just stay somewhere nearby? Like, in the next state? California was nice this time of year. At any time of year, really. Utah was very pretty. Did she have to stay here?

  Summer looked from Derek (who looked mildly terrified) to Willow (who wore that smug expression Summer so hated), to Josie and Delaney, to Luke and Nate.

  What would life look like without Willow? Chaotic, noisy, messy. Exactly what Summer was used to, only, with an additional child.

  What would life look like if Willow stayed? Chaotic, noisy, messy. With her biggest critic standing by, waiting for her to make a mistake.

  Suddenly, Olivia started screaming. Summer took that as a sign. She made her decision.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sarah came rushing out of the bedroom, carrying the wailing Olivia, and Summer’s breasts reacted by leaking all over her shirt. She’d forgotten to use nursing pads.

  “Whatever,” she muttered, taking the baby, thanking Sarah and brushing past Willow to go sit on the couch. Hannah climbed up next to her and began rubbing Olivia’s head.

  This whole situation was Derek’s fault, really. If he hadn’t befriended Willow, if he didn’t have such a kind heart, if he didn’t want Summer’s life to be easier (and when had she ever asked for an easier life? She was an independent woman!), none of this would be happening. Why did he have to be so … good?

  Josie and Delaney started washing dishes again, Josie scrubbing and Delaney drying. The boys zoomed out of the living room, and Willow started stacking papers—bills, junk mail, schoolwork—in tidier piles on the counter. Summer thought she was trying to prove her worth. No one spoke. For the second time within the hour, the doorbell rang, breaking the spell of silence.

  Every head in the room turned toward the door at the sound of the bell. Derek answered the door, and Julie stood there, a brown box in her arms. Her smile faded as she took in the somber mood.

  “Perfect timing,” Summer heard Derek say to his mom.

  Why couldn’t the universe have given her Julie for a mother? In a way, it had, by allowing her to find Derek. But how had the universe connected her with Willow? It made no sense whatsoever.

  “A present!” Luke ran to the door and took the box from Julie. “Grandma brought us a present!”

  Julie laughed. “Wait for your brother and sisters, now,” she said.

  Derek introduced Julie and Willow, and Summer could practically see Julie sizing up Summer’s mysterious mother. She had the good sense not to say anything. Willow, on the other hand, didn’t hold back.

  “So you’re the one who encouraged these two to procreate so foolishly,” she said as she grasped Julie’s hand. “Didn’t Summer tell me you have a whole flock of children as well?”

  Julie smiled. To a stranger—to Willow—the smile would look innocent and kind. But Summer could see the cunning behind it.

  “It’s just lovely to meet you,” Julie said.

  “Likewise,” Willow said.

  Summer sighed and Olivia nursed away madly, with no idea how good she had it.

  ***

  Willow stayed.

  The rest of them (Derek, Josie and even Julie, not to mention the kids) made it impossible for Summer to send her away.

  “She can have my bed!” Sarah said, and Summer knew she’d regret it after one night sleeping in the boys’ room. “She can have my bed!” Nate said, and Summer knew he’d regret it as soon as he shared the bed with Luke for one night.

  “My bed!” Hannah shouted, unable to resist joining in the excitement.

  In the end, it was settled that they’d blow up an air mattress in the girls’ room. Sarah would sleep on that—possibly with Hannah—and Willow would sleep in Sarah’s bed.

  Everyone seemed so happy about it.

  Even Julie, despite the decidedly cool reception she’d gotten from Willow. She was completely unfazed by Willow’s lots-of-kids comment, and instead of recoiling, she opened her arms to give Willow a big hug. Of course, that didn’t break Willow’s icy exterior. She sniffed, eyebrows still raised in superiority, and endured Julie’s embrace with stick-straight posture.

  “What a wonderful daughter you raised,” Julie said, and Willow relaxed a little. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate your help immensely.”

  At that, Julie shot Summer a dark look, and Summer forced a smile, their conversation at the hospital fresh in her mind. We don’t always get second chances in this life. Willow is here for a reason. You may not be able to see it just yet.

  Summer could handle this. Not for Willow, but for Derek. And for the kids. So what if it meant losing her sanity? At least everyone else would have theirs.

  ***

  Julie left almost immediately after her arrival. A few moments later, Josie and Delaney began gathering their things to leave, too.

  Summer didn’t miss the conspicuous head-jerk Josie gave Derek, commanding that he follow her outside, but Olivia was still nursing with
the ferocity of a baby crocodile and Summer couldn’t get up to join them. Instead, she remained stuck in the living room with Willow as the kids emptied Julie’s box—an assortment of bubbles, sidewalk chalk and water guns—and went outside to play. Trapped, Summer wished she could dissolve right into the couch and disappear. Maybe she could teleport and end up on the beach.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so against me staying here,” Willow said. She looked around, sniffed. Her exaggerated expressions made her seem like a caricature of herself, Summer thought. “You obviously need the help.”

  “Do we have to have this conversation? You’re staying here. You got what you wanted. Okay?”

  “I just don’t understand, that’s all.”

  Instead of screaming like she wanted to, Summer clenched her teeth. “Fine,” she said in a near-growl. “You know why I don’t want you staying here? Every time you speak to me, it’s a veiled criticism. Everywhere you look, you see my mistakes. My shortcomings. I see them clearly enough, myself. The last thing I need is for you to point them out to me, every single day. You don’t cook. You don’t clean, which I’m pretty sure is the whole reason you had a child in the first place. So I hardly think you’re going to be any help, unless you count character building as the kind of help I need. Personally, I think I had enough of that growing up.”

  For once, Willow didn’t have a comeback.

  Olivia finished nursing, and her head lolled back. Summer wished she could fall asleep so easily.

  “Can I hold her?” Willow said.

  “I guess.” Summer handed the baby to Willow. “I’m going to see if I can catch Josie and Delaney before they go, to say good-bye and thank them for doing dishes.”

  “That Josie’s a real firecracker,” Willow said.