“Sorry to block your drive. We were looking for the Anderson residence,” Eric said. Rebekah couldn’t believe how calm he sounded.
The woman leaned down to look into the vehicle. “I’m Kate Anderson. Do I know you?”
Eric sucked in a deep breath. “I… No,” he said. He turned the key in the ignition. The minibus’s starter grinded and grinded, but the engine refused to kick over.
“Sounds like you’re out of luck,” Kate said.
“I’m Rebekah,” Rebekah said, deciding this was her opportunity to meddle. “And this is my husband, Eric. His last name used to be Anderson.”
Kate shook her head. “Sorry. Don’t know of any Eric Andersons.”
Ha! She’d been right. They hadn’t known about Eric. That was why they’d never come to claim him and raise him as their own.
Cursing up a storm, Eric pumped the gas pedal and tried starting the bus again.
“Have you ever heard of a Karen Anderson? Karen Nicole Anderson? She was born here in Bangor, so we thought maybe—”
“She’s been missing for over twenty-five years. She’s most likely dead.”
Rebekah gaped at the woman. She didn’t look the least bit upset to be reporting this news.
“So you do know her?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, I know her. I once called her my daughter, but then she went and got herself knocked up. Then ran off to Hollywood to make her fortune as an actress.” Kate snorted derisively. “Last time I spoke to her, she was begging for bail money. She’d been arrested for prostitution. Can you believe it? We gave her everything growing up and that is how she repaid us.”
“What happened to her baby?” Rebekah asked.
Kate shrugged. “She aborted it.”
Rebekah scrunched her eyebrows together and turned to Eric, who had curled his body around the steering wheel as if it were his security blanket.
Rebekah turned back to who she suspected was his grandmother. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Her daddy dropped her off at the clinic himself. That was the last time any of us saw her. She hopped on a bus headed west that very afternoon.”
“She didn’t have an abortion that day,” Rebekah said.
“How the hell would you know?”
“Because this is her son. Eric.”
Rebekah expected the woman to be shocked. She did not expect her to level a glare laced with venom at her grandson.
“Get off my property,” she hissed.
“Gladly,” Eric said, trying to start the engine yet again. It still wouldn’t start.
“Wait,” Rebekah said, more to herself than anyone. “Don’t you want to get to know your own grandson?”
“I disowned his whore of a mother almost thirty years ago, so he’s no grandson of mine.”
“Will you just fucking start, you foreign piece of shit?” Eric bellowed at the van’s steering wheel.
Kate spun on her heel and headed back up the drive. Rebekah wasn’t sure what compelled her to open the door and chase after her.
“We came all this way to meet you,” she said. “He didn’t even want to come, but I made him. He’s only here because he loves me.”
Behind her, the minibus finally roared to life. “Rebekah!” Eric called out to her.
Rebekah didn’t slow in her pursuit of Kate Anderson. If anything, she moved faster. “Don’t you care about what he went through? All those years with no one to love him and guide him, no one to tell him things would be okay, no one to depend on but himself.”
“Stop following me,” Kate said, probably wishing her driveway wasn’t quite so long and stately at the moment.
“Rebekah!” Eric called, gunning the engine. “Let’s just leave.”
“Don’t you want to know what he’s made of himself? And the rich and famous part of it is the least remarkable. He’s a wonderful man. He’s caring and considerate. Puts everyone before himself.” Rebekah didn’t know when her tears hard started to fall, but she didn’t try to stem their flow. They were tears for Eric’s lost childhood, but really, she should probably be crying for the selfish bitch she was chasing up the drive. His family members were the ones who’d missed out. Eric was probably better off without these fucking people in his life. “And he knows how to love. I don’t know where he learned. There was no one for him to model after. No one to show him any love. Don’t you want to make it up to him?”
Kate had almost reached the steps that led to her front door. Growling in rage and frustration, Rebekah scooped up a handful of dirty snow and flung it at Kate’s retreating back. It missed her, slammed into the ground, and scattered up the pavement in icy gray clumps.
“Stop fucking ignoring me!” Rebekah yelled. “Go talk to him! I want you to look him in the eye and realize how much you’ve missed, you cold-hearted bitch.”
Kate wrenched open her front door and turned long enough to scream, “Go away! No one wants him here. If we’d wanted him, we would have gone to get him when California tried to pawn him off on us twenty-five years ago!” She slammed the door and turned off the porch light, a clear sign that Rebekah was not welcome.
Rebekah kicked the snow bank, finding its destruction less than satisfying. The rumbling engine of the Volkswagen came up behind her. Maybe she shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. Maybe if Eric had approached his grandmother calmly with that winning grin of his and an easy ice-breaking joke on his tongue, Kate wouldn’t have fled. As it was, the woman would probably never talk to him now.
“Rebekah?” Eric called softly. “We should head to the airport. We’ll miss our flight.”
She shouldn’t have ever made him come in the first place. If she hadn’t meddled, they’d be lounging on a beach right now, sharing a laugh, watching the waves. Her heart wouldn’t be breaking for him.
She gave the Andersons’ luxurious home a one-fingered salute and then climbed into the passenger side of the van. She rubbed her frigid hands in front of the heater vent and avoided looking at Eric.
“I’m sorry,” she said as he backed the van out of the drive.
“For what?”
“For making you come here. For meddling. For ruining any chance you had at getting to know your family by acting like a complete fool.”