Day Two

Sheridan

With a sigh of exasperation, Sheridan thumbed off her phone, tossed it onto the kitchen counter beside Gwen, and stared out of the small window above the sink.

"Uh oh. You have that look." Gwen's long blond ponytail bounced as she followed Sheridan's restless progress around the emptied kitchen, and the heels of her boots thudded against the cabinets as she uncrossed her ankles, sat up a little straighter from the slouch she'd been in.

"What look?" Sheridan asked distractedly, combing her fingers through her tousled hair as she continued to pace the room, the heels of her own boots clicking against the linoleum.

"That look," Gwen stuck a pointed finger out.

"This look?" Sheridan asked, looking at her friend with wide blue eyes and a worried furrow etched between her aristocratic brows. "This is my Marty is testing the limits of his father's patience again look."

Gwen slid off the edge of the kitchen counter, absently tugged at the hem of her cream turtleneck as she walked over to the open box of strawberry pop tarts sitting across from the dripping faucet. Extracting one and ripping its foil wrapper open, she broke off a corner of one of the pastries and nibbled on it. "Exactly that look. What has Junior done this time?"

"Save one of those for Gilly," Sheridan said, grabbing the remaining pop tart from Gwen's hands and stowing it back inside the box. "She's already going to be disappointed that there's no Fruit Loops."

"Oh, there's plenty of Fruit Loops," Gwen quipped. "In Harmony."

"Some might argue we're the Fruit Loops," Sheridan waved a finger back and forth between herself and the slim blond currently filling up a glass of tap water with one of her step-daughter's forgotten Princess cups. She couldn't tell if the grimace Gwen turned on her mere seconds later was due to the unsavory taste of her words hitting her brain waves or the water assaulting her tongue. "At least we were, the last time either of us were there."

"This stuff is disgusting. I hope you don't drink it."

"Usually not," Sheridan smiled slightly as Gwen shoved another piece of pop tart into her mouth to cleanse her taste buds. "Better?"

"I need a bottle of water," came Gwen's quick retort. "Or coffee. Coffee would be fantastic."

"Coffee would be fabulous, but I'm fresh out," Sheridan's own response was laced with apology. "There's some Capri-Suns packed in the mini-cooler, though. It's already in the car."

"That's not helpful at all," Gwen frowned. "You never did answer my question."

"Hmm?" Sheridan hummed, her blue eyes taking on a faraway expression.

"Marty? What did he do?" Gwen pressed.

Sheridan refocused her attention on her friend, but only for a moment, because a faint cry coming from the living room had her abandoning Gwen's side. "He and Little Ethan stole Sam Bennett's boat."

"I don't understand," Gwen followed her. "How exactly do you steal a boat? Did they sail away to an undiscovered island? To another country? You're much too calm if that's the case." In her preoccupation, she almost bumped into Sheridan from behind. "Sheridan?! What the…oh. Hi, Gilly." Gwen placed a supportive hand on the small of Sheridan's back, could feel the tension coming off of her friend in waves, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess why.

Not two feet away, Gilly was standing in front of them, Petal tucked precariously underneath one armpit, her baby sister almost dangling from her other skinny arm.

"Gillian," Sheridan spoke in a low, carefully controlled, soothing murmur to her stepdaughter. "Put the baby down."

"You might want to rethink your word choice there, Sher," Gwen hissed into Sheridan's ear, earning herself an elbow to the ribs in the process. She got her point across, though, because Sheridan changed tactics, speaking much more forcefully. Thank God, because Gwen didn't want to have to make that phone call, the one that explained why they were spending their day at Mass General instead of on the road. Luis already hated her enough. In fact, she suspected Sheridan had enlisted her help moving against her husband's protests.

"Give Bella to me, Gilly."

Gilly's large brown eyes cleared, and she handed over the now howling infant to her stepmother with a disgruntled pout on her rosebud lips. "I don't like Bella. Can't we just leave her here? Then I can get a puppy."

"Just remember," Gwen helpfully reminded her friend. "She's four."

"She's four," Sheridan repeated, taking a deep breath as she gently rocked her agitated infant daughter against her breast. "She's four."

Sensing that Sheridan needed a few moments to compose herself and to soothe her baby daughter's tears, Gwen decided to make herself useful. "How about some breakfast, Gilly?"

Dragging Petal by one long, floppy ear, Gilly marched her little self toward the kitchen, that upturned button nose held just slightly in the air. "I want Fruit Loops."

Gwen backed into the kitchen after her, eyebrow raised in disbelief as she shared a knowing look with Sheridan. "It's uncanny, really. Even with those eyes and the hair, she looks so much like her mother. She's Fancy's mini-me."

Sheridan's lips quirked against the peach fuzz of her baby girl's hair, and she gave Gwen a bit of helpful advice as Gilly started to chant for her favorite cereal in the kitchen. "You might want to brace yourself."

Her cheek pressed against the passenger side window, Sheridan watched the miles drift on by in a half-awake state, lulled to drowsiness by the combination of a sleepless night and the repetitive nature of road travel. The classical radio station Gwen had used to ease the girls into dreamland a little over an hour ago didn't do much to help her lethargic state, and she longed to look for something else on the airwaves, but she wasn't stupid. A little reckless, maybe, but not stupid. She let her head loll to the other side, studied Gwen's profile silently. "You look like you got about as much rest last night as I did."

Gwen gripped the steering wheel between her hands tighter, then seemed to force herself to relax. "Yeah, well. Like you said…we're the prodigal Fruit Loops. At least Marty will be marginally happy to see you. No one's going to cheer when they find out I'm back in town," she told Sheridan with a self-deprecating laugh. "I still can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Can we please not mention Fruit Loops again, ever?" Yes, the state of New Hampshire was small, but Sheridan felt like she'd traveled it in its entirety in a few short hours trying to please her aggrieved young stepdaughter. They'd ended up stopping at a pancake house and almost gorging themselves on the buttermilk stacks to dispel some of their nervous energy. Now, Sheridan felt about as energized as a slug, and it was showing, if the look on Gwen's face were any indication. "Are we there yet?" she asked with a barely suppressed groan.

"I hate to say I told you so, but this trip would have been so much more bearable on an airplane."

"We would have already been there," Sheridan agreed on a sigh. "Plane tickets aren't cheap, Gwen. We don't exactly have the extra money sitting around."

"You mean Luis doesn't have the extra money," Gwen corrected her.

"No," Sheridan sat up a little straighter, looked her friend dead in the eyes when she spared her a quick glance. "We don't have the extra money."

Realization dawned in Gwen's warm brown eyes. "So that's how you convinced Antonio to agree to the divorce. I always wondered…" she trailed off.

"Wonder no more," Sheridan muttered softly, dropping her gaze to her lap and inspecting her nails, nails which were badly in need of a manicure. Then again, though she'd die before she'd admit it to anyone else, even Gwen, the rest of her was in desperate need of some TLC as well. At least with Antonio, even though they weren't equally reciprocated, she always knew where she stood in his affections. With Luis, especially lately, she didn't have the faintest clue. Her insecurities led her to ask, "Am I making a mistake, agreeing to go back?"

"Am I?" Gwen asked pointedly. "My kid probably calls Theresa Mommy. She probably looks at it as some kind of poetic justice for Jane."

Sheridan didn't have anything to say to that.

"That's Mama's girl," Sheridan crooned as her tiny daughter nursed at her breast. "Mama's Isabella. You were hungry. That was all."

Bella waved one of her small fists at her mother, latched onto the finger that she offered, cooed contently in her arms as she brought the fleece blanket up around them both when the door opposite them opened abruptly and a blast of cold air bullied its way in.

Gilly crawled inside the vehicle on her hands and knees, plopped unceremoniously into her booster seat and held her arms out. "I want Patrick. Give me Patrick."

Sheridan's blue eyes widened when Gwen appeared in the open doorway, a five-pound pumpkin cradled in her arms, plastic bags full of the sought-after snacks hooked around her wrist. "Patrick, I presume?"

"There should be a law preventing the peddling of this shit anywhere children are likely to be present," Gwen grumbled as she settled the pumpkin in Gilly's lap, then clumsily cinched the little girl's seatbelt in place.

Sheridan's mouth fell open, around the same time she shook her head vigorously in belated warning.

Gilly's brown eyes widened and she almost dropped her pumpkin. "You said a dirty word."

Gwen stole the next words out of the preschooler's mouth. "I know. You're going to tell your papa."

Gilly frowned, crossed her skinny arms around her pumpkin and kicked her feet against the back of the passenger seat in protest.

"It's not too late to adopt Patrick out to another family," Gwen warned. She smirked in triumph when the threat had the desired effect, and the little girl quieted down. Little did she know, the peace was only temporary. "Now. I couldn't find anything in there not loaded down with sugar," she informed Sheridan. "Potato chips seemed like the lesser evil. That meet your approval, Mom?"

"She's not my mommy!" Gilly shrieked suddenly, outraged tears welling in her large brown eyes. "Don't say that!"

"Gillian Francesca Lopez-Fitzgerald!" Gwen almost growled. Her brown eyes snapped to Sheridan's face when she heard the plea in her friend's softly uttered words.

"Gwen, leave it alone. It's okay."

"That's not my sister," Gilly wouldn't be consoled. "I don't want her. I don't want you," she cried, turning the full-force of her anger on Sheridan. "I want my papa! Where is my papa?"

"It's not okay, Sher," Gwen grit out when Gilly's theatrics caused Bella to whimper up, and the car was soon filled with the sounds of Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald's devastated daughters. "It's not."

"Leave it alone," Sheridan tearfully pleaded as she lifted Bella to her shoulder and stroked a gentle, trembling hand up and down the tiny baby's back. "Just leave it alone."

Sheridan's eyes were sore and red by the time they entered the city limits of Harmony. From arguing with her rebellious son over the phone, from listening to her husband tell her they just needed to give Gilly more time, from maintaining a brave face and kind understanding with each and every attack her stepdaughter launched at her. It was only after Gilly had worn herself out, slumped into an uncomfortable-looking heap against Patrick that she'd finally allowed herself to cry, and that had been almost two hours ago. "Maybe it is post-partem."

"Let me guess," Gwen said. "That's what Luis thinks it is."

Sheridan slumped further into her seat as the car traveled down the darkened streets of Harmony, and they passed the Book Café, the high school, the Youth Center.

"Have you ever considered that your husband is not treating you the way you deserve to be treated, that maybe, subconsciously, he's punishing you?"

"Excuse me," Sheridan retorted, swiping angrily at the tears that were once again slipping down her cheeks. "I didn't know you had your Masters in psychology."

"Don't be a bitch to me," Gwen bristled at her tone. "Save the sarcasm for your husband."

Sheridan deflated, bit her lip to contain the sob building in her emotion-tightened throat. "You think he's punishing me for getting pregnant with Bella."

Gwen didn't say anything.

"Did you know I said no at first?" Sheridan whispered. "I didn't want him to marry me as some sort of atonement for his mistakes."

"Don't you ever let her hear you say that," Gwen hissed. "Using you, sleeping with you while you were still married to his brother and he was still reeling from Fancy's death, that was the mistake. Not that innocent little girl back there. She's beautiful."

Sheridan smiled through her tears. "She is, isn't she?"

They turned onto the street Gwen had programmed into her GPS what seemed like days ago, and the stately, old homes in the neighborhood loomed against a velvet, midnight sky.

Gilly started to stir in the backseat, mumbled into the cloak of darkness. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost," Gwen answered as they neared the end of the street, and she spotted it, tall and mysterious in the eerie yellow glow of the moonlight. "My God," she breathed.

"Don't say it," Sheridan warned. "Don't say it," she repeated, to no avail.

"I can't not say it, Sher," Gwen caught her gaze, held on.

"Yes," Sheridan encouraged. "You can. You're going to say it anyway, aren't you? Gwen, don't."

"It's the Bates Motel meets the Amityville Horror House."

Sheridan threw her head back and groaned.

So...do you think Marty's got a legitimate beef with his father?

Or do you want to wait and read Luis's side of the story?

:)

I hope you don't mind. I couldn't help but include Gwen, and I think there are some interesting dynamics to be played out by her coming home too, if you will.

Tell me what you think.

Feedback is love!

Thanks so much for reading!