Redemption (Sempre 2)

Would he?

The possible answer to that terrified Haven.

“So, Hayden . . .”

Haven looked up from her plate, turning to Kelsey’s mother, Anita, down the table from her. Anita wore her dark hair in a tight bun on top of her head, a long string of pearls draped around her neck. She sipped from a glass of white wine that she had already refilled twice since they sat down.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Tell me about your family.”

Haven stared at her. “My family?”

“Yes, your family. I’d like to know why you’re not with them on Christmas.”

“Mother . . .” Kelsey hissed through clenched teeth at the same time her father muttered, “Anita, please.”

“Relax, I’m merely curious,” she said, waving them both off as she eyed Haven. “So, your family?”

“Well, uh . . . I don’t really have one,” she replied. “My parents are both gone.”

“An orphan?” Anita gasped loudly, leaning closer to the table. “How tragic! How did they die?”

“Car accident,” she answered right away, swallowing back the harsh truth that the only parent she really ever had took her own life to free herself from restraints . . . restraints put on her by the man who was supposed to be her father.

“So sad,” Anita said. “What about your other family members? Brothers? Cousins? Uncles? Aunts? Do you have anybody?”

“That’s enough, Anita,” Cain said, his voice firm. “Drop it.”

“Oh, get off it,” Anita said as she took a sip of her drink. “You can’t tell me you’re not curious why a young girl has no place to go on Christmas.”

“She has someplace to go,” Cain countered. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

Anita scoffed. “Please, Cain. Nobody actually wants to be here. Not even our own daughter wants to be in this house.”

“That’s because you always give everyone the third degree,” he said. “I don’t even want to come here half the time because of your interrogations.”

“Oh, don’t give me that! That’s not why you don’t come home! Maybe you can lie to everyone else and have them believe the bullshit that comes out of your mouth, but not me.”

“Bullshit?” Cain slammed his hand down on the table. “You want to talk about bullshit, let’s talk about it.”

Back and forth they went, bickering, slamming each other with harsh words. Kelsey continued to eat, completely unfazed, while Haven flinched and cringed at their exchange of hostility. It went on forever until suddenly they both seemed to run out of things to say.

Silence strangled the room. Haven took a few bites of her food, forcing it down, grateful that was over.

Until Anita spoke again. “So Kelsey, sweetheart, how bad did you fail school this time?”

“I didn’t fail,” Kelsey said. “I made mostly As and Bs with one D.”

“What was the D in?”

“Painting.”

“How in the world?” Anita shook her head in disapproval. “Even a monkey could pass that class. Any idiot can slap paint on a canvas.”

The words were like a crack to Haven’s chest. She let out an involuntary gasp, stung by the insult. Cain’s eyes darted from her over to his wife. “Dammit, Anita.”

“Oh, you’re a painter?” she asked. “I’m sure your work is lovely, dear. Just lovely. My daughter, on the other hand . . .”