Dedicated to my mother, though she has no idea that I write this stuff. Hope it's not too sentimental. I'm still working on my other story, believe it or not, though as school approaches time is becoming more scarce...Don't worry; they'll get to where they're going. Enjoy.
"Kirsten. Kirsten, wake up. You have to get up now, and I mean now." Kirsten opened her eyes and stretched.
"What? What's going on?"
"The Lear jet came in early. Your father is standing in the kitchen, demanding to see his daughter." Kirsten sat up straight in bed and looked at her husband with alarm.
"He's here? Already?
"Well, it's ten o'clock," Jimmy added matter-of-factly. "I let you sleep in. By the way, honey, are you okay? I mean, you may not like the mornings, but it's not like you to sleep so late."
"I took a sleeping pill last night," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I guess it knocked me out."
"Oh." Jimmy sat on the bed and looked at her carefully. "Are you sure you're okay? Because…"
"Yeah, yeah," Kirsten assured him, rising from the bed and walking over to the bathroom. She rinsed her face with cold water and came back.
"So did you see the girlfriend?" she asked as she walked over to her dresser and picked out clothes.
"Yeah. I didn't meet her, though; I just saw her through the window."
"And?" Kirsten pulled the nightgown over her head and began getting dressed.
"Tall, built, blonde, blue eyes, blue bikini," Jimmy told her, his voice clearly expressing that she bored rather than excited him. "Twenty-four years old."
"At least she's legal," Kirsten noted dryly. "And, hey, twenty-four. I was twenty-three when we got married." She gazed in the mirror, debating whether her shirt was buttoned-up enough or needed one more.
"You look great. Let's go."
"I thought you liked my dad."
"I do, I like your dad very much, but the man scares me."
"Jimmy, honestly, you should be used to him by now; we've been married almost seventeen years, and we've been together for—what is it, twenty-four? Oh, my God. We were dating when Dad's new girlfriend was born." Horror contorted Kirsten's face. "I could be her mother."
"Kirsten, calm down," said Jimmy soothingly, walking over to his wife and rubbing her arms gently. "We've been through this already. Your dad likes girls too young for him; you've got to get past it."
"I know," she said, looking at her hands. "I know I do."
"So let's go," he responded gently. "Come downstairs and see your dad. Maybe Gabrielle will even be dried off enough that you can meet her, too."
"Okay…" Kirsten's voice trailed off, and she looked up at her husband and smiled. "I can do that." She left the room and began walking down the stairs. Jimmy noticed as he followed her the way that she'd squared her shoulders and done—something—to the rest of her slight frame that she looked sweet but imposing. He always wondered how she did it.
"Kiki, here you are," said Caleb Nichol, outfitted in a striped polo shirt and jeans. The casualness of his clothing, though, didn't lend itself to his face, which was still clearly formidable.
"Hi, Dad," she said, with all the peppiness that she could muster. She quickly went over to her father to give him a hug and kiss.
"Sleeping late?" Of course, he'd latch on to that.
"Yeah, a bit," Kirsten said carefully, nervously fidgeting with her hair. "I wasn't working today, anyway…"
"Sure, sure," said Caleb easily. She waited for the barbed edge that would make her inwardly wince, but it didn't come.
"So where are my grandchildren? I want to see them."
"They're like me," laughed Kirsten. "They like to sleep in." The words had barely left her mouth before Grace walked into the room. She froze like the quintessential deer-in-headlights at the sight of this strange man.
"Grace," said Kirsten quickly, before her father could say anything. "I don't think you've met my father, Caleb Nichol. Dad, this is Jimmy's oldest child, Grace."
"Pleased to meet you," stammered Grace, shaking hands with Mr. Blue-steel Eyes.
"Mmm. Jimmy's child, you said?" Kirsten flushed.
"Her mom is Jimmy's ex-girlfriend, from before we were married. I can't believe I've never mentioned her to you," she continued, her eyes begging Grace to go along with what she was saying. "Anyway, now that she's older, she's been fighting with her mother a lot, so Jimmy and I said that she could live with us. She and I get along pretty well."
"I see."
Grace turned, uncomfortably, to her father, who gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead, saying, "Good morning, Gracie-Lou-Who," as if he did so every morning. Gracie-Lou-Who? Eh, she'd been called worse. He wasn't a dad if he didn't have an embarrassing nickname for her.
"Morning, Dad."
"So, Dad, when can I meet your new girlfriend?" asked Kirsten brightly.
"Oh, I don't know, whenever she's finished swimming," he said airily. Seconds later, a young woman strolled into the room.
Kirsten's first thought was that Barbie had come to life. The woman was tall and perfectly proportioned, with long, shiny blonde hair, a wide, sensual mouth, and the sort of huge blue eyes that Kirsten had only ever known to exist on the doll. The straps of the blue bikini which Jimmy had referenced peeked out from under a white tank top paired with jeans.
"You must be Kirsten," Gabrielle said with a honeyed alto. "It's so good to meet you. I'm Gabrielle." She held out her hand.
"Glad to meet you," said Kirsten, trying to keep her shock in check. All of Dad's girlfriends were beautiful, but Gabrielle…was unbelievable, in the most primitive sense of the word. "I…uh, this is my husband, Jimmy," she said, gesturing to him. He and Gabrielle shook hands. "And this is my stepdaughter, Grace." They shook hands, too. "My three other kids will wake up eventually," Kirsten added with a grin, "and then you can meet them. In the meantime, I'll show you where you'll be staying." The two women headed for the stairs, leaving Grace alone with her father and this rather scary-looking step-grandfather.
"Dad, can I borrow the keys to one of your cars?" she asked, trying to sound natural. "Summer and I wanted to go out." This wasn't true, but it was better than saying, "I'm desperate to get away from your father-in-law, to whom your wife just told a big lie that makes me very uncomfortable."
"Sure, kiddo," Dad said casually. "Take whichever one you want…oh, wait, I don't know if Kirsten's going out later. Better leave her car." He offered her a credit card as well. "Don't let Summer talk you into buying anything you don't want," he teased.
"Thanks," she said, taking the card. She'd noticed that extra keys to all four cars hung in the garage, and the thought of Dad's Porsche was a little bit tempting, but she got behind the wheel of the Mercedes which she had been driving. It was a beyond-nice car, worlds away from Lance's car, which she remembered finding so freeing the first time she drove it by herself. Grace felt guilty about enjoying the luxury car so much; she didn't want to get attached to anything so expensive about living with Dad and Kirsten.
She stopped at a nearby beach, and took off her shoes to walk along the sand. It might be other-worldly beautiful and intimidating in Newport Beach, but sand was still sand. She thought about Ryan.
Grace missed her boyfriend so much…She wanted, more than anything, to have him near her. Kirsten had promised to invite him to the birthday party, which was thrilling, but there was a vague nervousness that was growing larger and larger at the pit of Grace's stomach. She was almost embarrassed by the money her father's family had, and she felt dangerously close to being a sell-out. She and Ryan had had a plan, if you could call it that, to save up enough money to leave home and move somewhere else, get an apartment and get married and escape their families. Grace had been feeling guilty about the plan since Ryan's brother had gone to jail and his mother had run off, and Dad and Kirsten only made her feel guiltier. She liked living with her father's family, and she didn't know how she could face Ryan.
She hadn't called him, because she hadn't known what to say. But that came with a price; being without him hurt. She was dying to talk to him, to be with him, even just to hear his breath in her ears or his heart pounding against hers. Grace didn't like to think of herself as a coward, but she knew in her heart that what she was doing was cowardly.
Right. She wasn't going to let that continue. Without even thinking, she pulled out the brand-new cell phone which Kirsten had bought her and dialed the number she knew by heart.
"Hello?" It wasn't him.
"Hi, Theresa, is Ryan around? It's Grace," she blurted. "Grace Cooper?"
"Grace!" The other girl sounded terribly surprised.
"Yeah," said Grace, and she let out a breath. "Can I talk to him?"
"What, no how've you been, how's the family?" teased Theresa.
"Sorry I haven't called."
"Hey, I was kidding. It's cool. It's your boyfriend who's been missing you. Sure you can talk to him."
"Thanks," said Grace gratefully, and she waited while she heard the familiar sounds of Theresa's family on the other line.
"Grace," said Ryan's voice. Stoic, sensitive, relieved, sweet…there was so much to read in his voice once she'd learned how.
"Hi." And her own voice was so small, so insignificant in comparison.
"Sorry I didn't call, I…"
"It's okay."
"Are you coming to the party for Kirsten's dad?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean, if you want me to."
"I want you to, a lot."
"Then I'll be there. How…how are they, your dad's family? Do they treat you okay?"
"Yeah, they're great. Dad's…he's really shaping up to be a wonderful dad. And Jim, he's the oldest son, he's in our grade. I like him, and his girlfriend's really nice…And Kirsten, oh, my God, Ryan, you should meet her. She's unreal."
"I saw a picture of her. Of all of them. Theresa gets Riviera sometimes, when she has extra cash."
"They're all so good-looking. I've never seen such good-looking people, such a beautiful house, in real life. It's like…the land of the Beautiful Ones."
"You're beautiful. You should fit in." They laughed.
"It's strange not being around you. It's too weird to accept these people as my family. I mean—they're nice, all a girl could want, really—but it's weird."
"Yeah. Listen, Grace, I was in the middle of doing some stuff, so I'll see you on the tenth, okay?"
"Sure. Wait. This is my cell phone. Let me give you the number."
"You have a cell phone?"
"Kirsten bought it for me." She rattled off the number.
"Okay. Bye, Grace. I love you."
"I love you." The phone line went dead.
To other people, it might have been a worrying, unsatisfying phone call, but Grace felt better. Ryan never talked much, but she'd managed to convince him to tell her when something was wrong. It hadn't been easy, but it was her finest coup once accomplished. He was okay. She put the phone back in her purse.
The ocean was beautiful, so vast and untamed that it thrilled to Grace's innermost sensitivity. She had become an amalgamation of the well-bred "lady" her mother had wanted her to be and the silent, un-ambitious "arm piece" that her friends were all becoming, and rarely said what she thought. Yet there was a shy, insecure girl hidden behind the cool façade of poise and beauty…a girl who reveled in all the natural wonders of the world, a girl who loved with abandon and hid the painful rawness when she was hurt, a girl who gazed out at the sea and longed to be at peace with the demons which had racked her world.
Ryan kept the demons away. She wasn't even sure that it was something he consciously did—probably not—but she was never afraid with him at her side. There was something about his inscrutable demeanor and the sweet timidity which lay underneath that had always mirrored Grace. After they got past the first awkward dates when they had nothing in common but lust, there had grown a quiet understanding between them. Grace seemed fragile and waifish, as though waiting for some handsome knight to save her, but underneath that was her spun-steel strength…and even farther underneath was her true uncertainty. But she would not be dismissed as "weak," and neither would he. The layers upon layers of cockiness and insecurity, audacity and bashfulness, strength and insignificance that defined both their characters had bound them to each other in undeniable ways as they, sometimes gently, sometimes harshly, stripped each other of each layer. Maybe Theresa had known him longer, but Grace knew him better.
She meandered along the boardwalk, stopping to buy a "Balboa Bar" and savor the sweet, rich flavor of the iced cream. Kirsten's lie now hung in her mind. Grace was grateful to her stepmother for the quick and relatively painless acceptance witch she had undergone, but the hasty words spoken to Kirsten's father had served to remind Grace how utterly wrong her situation is. She felt the anger rise, as it so often did when she thought about Mom and Dad, Kirsten and Lance, but she forced it down. No, she had to really think about this, and leave the "what-if?"s out of the game.
It was a strange situation, and if she was being perfectly fair, Grace didn't blame Kirsten for lying to her father. She was clearly afraid of the imposing man that was Caleb Nichol, and, once again, Grace could hardly blame her. She wondered, as the split-second of Kirsten's panicked face flashed through her mind, if Kirsten had married Dad and chosen him for the father of her children because she knew that their kids would be safe from constant worries about having to please "Dad"—though if Vicky was any indication, pleasing "Mom" was certainly a worry. They always say you end up like your parents…
Oh, God. Grace thought of her own mother and shook her head. Please, God, let me be a better mother than that, pushing my daughter to be something she isn't, living a life of fantasy and never teaching her how, exactly, to stand on her own two feet; leaving such a difficult lesson to the poor girl herself.
But at that moment, Grace Andrea Cooper made up her mind. She was going to make Kirsten's comment to her father true; she would accept Dad as her father and Kirsten as her stepmother and live with them, and she would unpack her things. With the decision fresh, she calmly walked back to the car and drove home.
Kirsten was sitting by the pool with a martini when Grace left the garage after parking the car.
"Hi," she said sheepishly. She indicated a chair, and Grace sat.
"I'm sorry, Grace," Kirsten apologized. "In my defense, you don't know my father. If I had told him the truth, he would never have accepted you, and he would have made your life—and mine, and Jimmy's, and your siblings'—absolute hell. And I didn't really lie…you are Jimmy's first child, and you and your mother did fight, at least I assume so, and you and I have gotten along, at least up until now."
"Don't worry, Kirsten," Grace said dully, placing her hand on her stepmother's. "I don't hate you for it, and I don't blame you for it. We still get along." Kirsten smiled bittersweetly and squeezed the hand Grace had offered.
"I blame myself for it, though," she said distantly, "and you know, sometimes I hate myself for it—for the way I always try to please him. You know, Grace, all I ever wanted was for Dad to be proud of me. Now, I married the son-in-law he always wanted, have good-looking, intelligent kids, run the Newport Group just as he always wanted me to. I'm just terrified of jeopardizing that, Grace. I'm a bit of a coward when it comes to my father. I don't want him to stop being proud of me."
"I don't want that, either," Grace told her, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. "Everyone wants to please the parents…"
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry…" said Kirsten quickly, and Grace winced. There she went again, feeling terrible about things beyond her control, putting them on herself as if they were her fault. "You know that Jimmy's proud of you. He thinks you're beautiful and smart and sweet, and you are."
"He barely knows me," said Grace softly.
"He doesn't have to know you, sweetie. He loves you already. He's like that…open and loving…and you're his daughter. Victoria never really wanted to be a 'Daddy's girl'; she's in that rebelling stage. Jimmy loves that you actually want him around…and he loves you for you. And he's proud of you, if for nothing else, for making it through sixteen years of life. He's like that," she repeated. "Parents…are like that."
"Kirsten?"
"Hmm?"
"I miss my mom. Is that terrible of me?"
"No, honey. She's your mother. It's okay."
"But she was horrible to me. She abandoned me. I swore I'd always hate her. And before that, too…she always seemed to be holding out for a miracle…she refused to let me be who I was; she seemed desperate to make me the girl she'd wanted to be, not even caring what I wanted, what I needed."
"All mothers have faults. We aren't any of us perfect," said Kirsten slowly. "My mother drank too much. She never really stood up to Dad on the important issues; she…she was always making excuses…" Grace looked down uncomfortably as she saw tears brimming in Kirsten's eyes. "But I loved her so much, I love her so much. And I can tell you, sweetheart, your mother loves you." She gave Grace's hand a squeeze. "And it's more than okay to love her, too."
"I do love her," said Grace, surprised to find that her own voice was choking. "But…do you think…that one day…when I know you better…when I've lived here longer…it would be okay if I loved you, too?"
"I think it would be more than okay," Kirsten managed, and then she couldn't stop crying. Grace's eyes flooded, too, and she impulsively wrapped her arms around her stepmother, holding her tight.
"Would it be okay if maybe I loved you?" came the sobbing whisper.
"Yeah," Grace choked out. "That would be great."