Beautiful Accidents Page 13

  Stevie stripped off her sweatshirt and gloves before walking into the living room where the assembly line was taking place. “You all are so mean to me. It’s a wonder I survived all this badgering.”

  “Oh, woe is me,” Lucille said, then looked up and winked at Stevie. “You know we love you.”

  “Yeah, I can feel it.” Stevie rolled her eyes and plopped down in a seat across from Lucille. “Can I help?”

  Lucille and Helen both nodded enthusiastically and shoved a small bowl of each mixture toward Stevie. “Don’t forget to seal them with the water and fork.”

  “I know.”

  “And don’t—”

  “Overfill them. I know.”

  “And don’t—”

  “Mix them up. I know, I know. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  Lucille and Helen laughed. Gram rested her hands on Stevie’s shoulders before saying, “They think I haven’t taught you the best way. You hear that?”

  “Right?” Stevie shook her head while chuckling with her grandma.

  “Stevie, tell us”—Helen’s voice was gravelly from smoking too many cigarettes throughout her lifetime—“do you have a new woman in your life?”

  “Oh, Lord, give us strength.” Gram squeezed Stevie’s shoulders.

  Stevie knew that was her indication she was joking. Not that she was still upset about her favorite granddaughter being a lesbian. Although she still wondered from time to time. She cleared her throat and shrugged. “I mean, kind of? I guess. No one super serious.”

  “Is this the woman Harper hasn’t shut up about?”

  Stevie’s eyes shot up and met Lucille’s.

  “She went on and on and on about this woman. I think her name was Bernadette? Is that right?”

  Stevie nodded.

  “Well, she sounds like a very nice lady.” Lucille leaned forward and propped her elbows on the card table. The movement made the entire table wobble. Her blue eyes were exactly like Gram’s, who’d also passed the eye color on to Stevie’s mom, who passed it to Stevie. Lucille resembled her mom so much that sometimes, it hurt to look at her.

  Actually, it hurt way too much all the time.

  But Stevie hid it well. She was a certified hard-ass. Or at least, she liked to think she was. “Bernadette is definitely a nice lady,” Stevie finally responded. She shook the emotion out of her brain and smiled. “And yes, Harper loved her.”

  “And…what does she look like?” Lucille asked with a smile.

  “Ah, yes, please tell us. Don’t leave out any details.” Helen waggled her bushy eyebrows. “You know what I mean?”

  “Aunt Helen,” Stevie started, “what details are you talking about?” Stevie watched Helen’s eyes light up and holy cow. “Were you partial to the ladies?”

  “Oh Jesus.” Gram’s voice came from the kitchen. Stevie could see her and watched as she did the sign of the cross. Stevie couldn’t help but shake her head and try not to laugh.

  Helen, who definitely seemed as if she could have been an old lesbian from way back in the day, leaned against the backrest of the padded chair and smiled. “I think what you youths call it is bisexual.”

  Stevie choked on the breath she was taking and started coughing.

  “Wait a second,” Lucille said, dropping the pierogi she was sealing onto the table. A puff of flour billowed around it. “You’re joking.”

  Helen shook her head after she handed Stevie the unopened beer sitting on the table next to her. “I am serious.”

  “What the hell? I have been living my entire life thinking I was the only one in the family, and here you’ve been, right there the whole time?”

  “It’s not as if I could be open and honest growing up, though,” Helen explained. “You need to remember, I grew up in the nineteen twenties and thirties. It was not something you paraded around proudly.”

  “Gram, did you know this?” Stevie asked loudly.

  Gram leaned back from the stove and looked into the living room at Stevie. “I do. I know this.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me?” Stevie laughed and then looked back at Aunt Helen. “Tell me, please. I want to hear all about it.”

  So Helen launched into her story about her first girlfriend and boyfriend; both happened at the same time while she was sixteen. She spoke about confiding in her sister about her fears, about how scary and frightening it was because, at that time, it was so taboo. Helen laughed loudly when Stevie asked why she didn’t settle down, why she didn’t get married or have children.

  “Stevie, dear, I couldn’t find a man I wanted to settle down with. I loved”—Helen’s eyebrow arched to her hairline—“sex with men…But I didn’t want to settle down with one.”

  “Wait,” Lucille said to Helen, “are you telling me that Aunt Josephine—”

  Helen nodded.

  “What?” Stevie looked at Lucille. “What?”

  “Aunt Josephine was my partner,” Helen said softly. “We had a secret wedding in eighty-six. It wasn’t legal, of course, but we were so excited. It was the happiest day of my life.”

  Gram brought a plate of steaming hot pierogies to the table and set them down. “Make sure they taste okay,” she instructed and then stopped when Stevie reached out and grabbed her hand.

  “Gram, you could have told me, y’know.”

  “I know.” She smiled and placed her hand on Stevie’s cheek. “Helen wouldn’t let me. It was her story to tell, when she was ready to tell it, which I guess is today at our Thanksgiving dinner.” Gram rolled her eyes and looked over at Helen.

  “Sorry, Aggie.” Helen laughed before she said, “Now, it’s your turn, Stevie. Tell us about this Bernadette woman.”

  Stevie felt her cheeks get hot, but she knew there was no better time. “Well, I met her at the tarot card reading I did a while back.”

  “The devil!” Gram shouted from back in the kitchen.

  They all laughed, and Stevie continued with her story. She told them about the reading, about how the cards said she was going to meet someone who would change her life forever. How one of the cards was the marriage of two people, living together in harmony, and at the time, she knew it could mean a couple different things, but as time passed, she’d started to wonder who that card was actually referring to. She told the story of the light show and how Constance was pissed Bernadette was with a past client. “I mean, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what happens because if I make it to SNL and NYC, I am not staying here. I will leave without any hesitation. And Bernadette cannot leave. She has to help with her mom, who is deaf and needs the extra assistance.” Stevie paused and drank from the beer Helen handed her earlier. “It’s been crazy, though. Getting to know her…I don’t ever want to get to know people.”

  Lucille shook her head. “You know, you sound like your mom sounded when she talked about your father.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes.” Lucille smiled. “You have always reminded me of her, but as you get older, you start to resemble her more and more, and your voice…”

  “Sounds like Dianna,” Helen added.

  Stevie could feel the emotion stuck in her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it wasn’t moving. She blinked once, then twice, and felt tears start to fall from her eyes. Shit. She was crying.

  * * *

  Dinner was wonderful. But of course it was. Bernadette’s mother was an outstanding cook, and she outdid herself, especially around the holidays. And while her Italian roots were always strong, they were the strongest when she was in the kitchen. Thanksgiving was no exception. The turkey was so very juicy and flavorful, with the right amount of thyme. The mashed potatoes were fluffy and incredible, butter pats littered throughout, and salt and pepper already added. And the meatballs…oh God, the meatballs. It was fair to say the meatballs were the best Bernadette ever taste-tested, and she had more than her fair share. They were her Grandmother Benatti’s recipe, a crowd favorite. Nine times out of ten, people would duel for the
last one. One year, Paul almost drop-kicked cousin Tony. Bernadette was sneaky, though, and made sure she hid a few in the kitchen.

  “Pie, everyone?” Bernadette said as she stood from the large dining room table. It was filled with the same familiar faces. Tony and his wife, cousin Sofia and her husband, their two children, Aunt Andrea and Uncle Matteo, and their four children. They all nodded with smiles on their faces.

  She turned and whisked herself into the kitchen. She arranged the two pies, a large bowl of fresh whipped cream, and a pot of coffee on a tray and made her way into the dining room. As she passed out slices of pie piled high with whipped cream, she smiled at the ohs and ahs she heard from the table. Before she had a chance to cut herself a piece of pie, the doorbell rang. “Well, I’m the only one without pie, so I guess that means I have to get it.” The entire table laughed around mouthfuls of pie, and she rolled her eyes in response. When she swung open the door, she was, maybe for the first time ever, disappointed to see Connie standing there, teenagers and husband in tow.

  “Auntie Bernie,” Finn and Rosie yelled and lunged into her arms. They were both in their teens and both amazing. Bernadette loved them so much.

  “Girls, you both look so beautiful,” Bernadette said after she recovered from the dual bear hug.

  “You look beautiful, Auntie Bernie. What did you do to your hair? It’s so pretty,” Finn said as she ran her fingers through Bernadette’s large curls and sighed. “I wish my hair was this great.”

  “Oh my God,” Rosie said as she smacked Finn on the arm. “Your hair is gorgeous. Mine is the worst.”

  Bernadette laughed as she welcomed everyone in. Connie grabbed her hand and squeezed before she signed, “Your mom invited us. I hope it’s okay.”

  “Oh, Connie, of course it’s okay.” Bernadette held out an arm and motioned toward Connie’s husband Dave. “Give me a hug, big guy. It’s been too long.”

  Dave did as he was asked, wrapping his large arms around Bernadette. “You smell like home,” Dave said and laughed. He picked her up and squeezed, causing Bernadette to laugh right along with him. When he set her back on the entryway tile, he pushed past her and into the house. Dave was so not what Bernadette ever had pictured Connie settling down with. He was burly and had a beard. His idea of dressing up was a nicer flannel and jeans, work boots, and a ball cap. Unfortunately, a White Sox cap, too. Not even a Cubs cap. It was only one of the flaws Bernadette tried to focus on so she wouldn’t like him as much as Connie seemed to. He worked for the railroad, loved to fish and hunt, and hadn’t finished high school. But damn, Connie loved him with the fire of a thousand suns. It frustrated Bernadette to no end, but at the same time made her feel so good that Connie had someone to love, someone to be passionate about, someone to worship. She hated it wasn’t her, but she spent a lot of money on therapy to find a way to be okay with it.

  It was working.

  Slowly.

  Very, very, very slowly.

  But it was working.

  Connie slid her arm around Bernadette’s waist and squeezed. Bernadette looked down at Connie, at her small frame and blond hair and beautiful green eyes. “I had no idea you were coming,” she said and signed with one hand.

  Connie smiled and nodded. “Your mom wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “She’s crazy.”

  Connie laughed.

  “Where did you do dinner?”

  Connie breezed past the question and said, “I think we need to talk while everyone eats dessert.”

  Bernadette shook her head. “I don’t think so. I want to hang out and eat pie.”

  “No,” Connie signed. “Come with me.” She linked her fingers with Bernadette’s and pulled her through the hallway and into Bernadette’s bedroom where she shut the door. Every time Connie came over, it felt like a scene right out of her high school memories. All she needed was another feeble attempt at wooing Connie, and it would be high school all over again. And rejection was not something her fragile heart could handle back then. Hell, even now, she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and she knew exactly what her place was in Connie’s life.

  “What do you want to talk about?” She perched on the side of the bed and waited for Connie to stop fiddling with the clasp of her necklace. That meant she was nervous, so Bernadette’s nerves were amplified in response.

  “You and our client.” Connie pulled up the desk chair and sat down, straddling the back. She didn’t start signing again until Bernadette’s eyes were finally locked on hers. “You and she cannot happen. It is going to be very bad press for the shop. And I cannot afford to have bad press right now. Social media is blowing up about me. This cannot happen right now. Or ever.”

  Bernadette didn’t say or sign a word when Connie’s hands fell, and she folded her arms onto the back of the chair. They both sat in silence. Bernadette wanted to fight her. She wanted so badly to tell her it was none of her fucking business whom she hung out with, drank with, made out with, slept with…But the hold Connie had on her was making it difficult to stay strong. She took a deep breath, tried to open her mouth, but nothing was happening. She could feel her hands shaking. She was scared. Why the hell was she so fucking scared of this woman? Maybe because she knew standing up to her would only push her away. And then what? She would be without her oldest and dearest friend. Because Connie did not accept people back into her life. She held a grudge for ages. And it was never something she got past. Bernadette had seen numerous people come into Connie’s life and leave as quickly as they arrived. She’d always felt slightly bad for the people who would get pushed away because they no longer got to have this amazing soul in their lives. But she was starting to understand maybe she should feel a little jealous of them and their ability to not let themselves be treated horribly.

  “Speak,” Connie finally said, her voice low.

  Bernadette shook her head.

  “Why?” Connie raked her fingers through her hair, pulled on the ends, and then pushed the sides behind her ears. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t forget I am deaf, not blind.” Connie’s hands fell again, and Bernadette noticed the way she was spinning her wedding ring. It was one of her many nervous ticks, something Bernadette noticed the very first time they met, when it wasn’t a wedding ring but a gold claddagh ring given to her by a boy she’d left behind.

  “Is it worth it?” Bernadette finally signed. She wasn’t speaking because she didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation or her temper rising. She knew the answer to the question. It wasn’t worth it, so why try?

  “I care about your feelings.”

  Bernadette wanted so very badly to sign, Do you? But she didn’t. She popped her knuckles, one by one, and raised her hands. “Right now, I am missing out on my family Thanksgiving so you can lecture me about this. Do you see how messed up that is?”

  Connie nodded, her head moving at almost a comical rate. “You know I do not want you to see clients. Period. So either you stop or you quit.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “Connie—”

  “No.”

  Whoa. That was not what Bernadette was expecting. She could not afford to lose the extra money Connie paid her for interpreting. “You’ll never find someone who can put up with you,” she signed, and thankfully, that got a smile from Connie. “I’ll stop.”

  “You promise?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she almost drew blood. She knew she needed to answer and quickly, or Connie would think she was lying. “I promise,” she finally signed.

  “Good.” Connie stood, turned the chair, and slid it back under the desk. She spun and looked at Bernadette. “I love you,” she said. Her voice was so much clearer, and Bernadette had a feeling she’d been practicing it more and more. She was not a person who doled out I-love-yous to anyone. They were few and far between, so hearing it now made every muscle of her body feel guilty. And as Connie reached forward and pulled her
into a hug, the guilt started to grow like a flame that was finally allowed oxygen.

  Chapter Twelve

  Black Friday.

  It was Bernadette’s very favorite time to go shopping for Christmas. Not because she loved Christmas. And not because she loved people. Anyone who knew her knew she wasn’t a huge fan of people. It was because she could blend into a crowd and never be singled out, and secretly, she loved finding a good deal.

  So when she was halfway through her shopping day and she received a text from Stevie, she almost didn’t open it to see what it said. She was having a good day. And she knew the next conversation she had with Stevie, she was going to have to break it off with her, so why respond? Why start the process now? Maybe she wouldn’t even start the process; she would just not ever speak to her again. Stevie knew nothing about her aside from where she worked. She could easily fade into the background, which would be the easiest thing to do.

  Unfortunately, she had no fight when it came to anything in life and that included fighting curiosity. So when she sat down at the coffee shop in Water Tower Place and stared at her phone, she decided to take a peek. It wasn’t as if Stevie would know she’d looked.

  Hi there, beautiful. How was your Thanksgiving?

  Her heart squeezed inside her chest. “Dammit,” she whispered as she clutched her cup of scalding black coffee. Stevie had to be charming, didn’t she? She pushed her phone across the table and looked away from it. Her left leg was crossed over her right, and as it bobbed, and bobbed, and bobbed, she knew she was going to have to respond. She was not a horrible person. So even though ignoring this wonderful woman would be the easiest, it simply was not an option. She breathed in, snatched her phone from the table, and set her coffee down. She quickly typed in a response: Hi. It was good. How was yours?

  There. Nice and vague. No term of endearment back. No emojis, heart-eyes or otherwise.