Life in Bits: A Lesbian Christmas Romance Read online

  Life in Bits

  Harper Bliss

  T.B. Markinson

  Contents

  Special Offer from the Authors

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  About Harper Bliss

  About T.B. Markinson

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  Chapter One

  Eileen attempted to raise her shoulder to secure the battered army-green bag, which was slipping down a little with each step. At the same time, she kept her left hand on the handle of the massive rolling luggage, which was jam-packed with the necessary pieces of her life. The rest of her belongings still resided in her London apartment, which Eileen hadn’t decided what to do with: keep or sublet.

  This thought, along with the thousands of others racing through her mind, wrenched a deep sigh from Eileen. For forty-nine years she’d been a woman of action, but lately, she’d been immobilized by… what? Fear? Exhaustion? Betrayal? All three, perhaps.

  Despite Eileen’s best efforts, the bag continued to slide precariously off her shoulder. Ever since the event and subsequent hospital stay, simple tasks had become arduous, much to her dismay and frustration.

  “Eileen!” Julia, her younger sister by four years, smiled and waved as soon as Eileen cleared the final door of the soul-sucking customs area of Boston’s Logan International Airport. “Here, let me take your bag.” Julia reached for the shoulder bag, but Eileen pulled back.

  “I’ve got it, thanks.” Eileen ignored the bead of perspiration snaking its way down her face.

  Julia’s gaze fell briefly to Eileen’s stiff right arm cradled under her chest. A silent wave of anger surged through Eileen. Pity was one emotion she couldn’t stomach.

  Wrapping one arm around her sister’s right shoulder, Julia took the opportunity to nudge the bag back into place on the good one. “How was your flight?”

  “Delayed, cramped, and customs took over two hours due to the complete incompetence of allowing four international flights to land at once.” Despite Julia’s efforts, the bag slipped off Eileen’s shoulder completely this time. Eileen crooked her elbow to stop it from plummeting to the floor, but she couldn’t hoist it back into place without the use of both arms.

  The rigid right arm remained in the same spot, where it’d rested the past three weeks.

  Without saying a word, Julia eased the bag off Eileen’s arm and tossed it effortlessly over her right shoulder.

  “I need a shower,” was all Eileen said. She was grateful to be relieved of the bag, but too strong-willed to say thank you out loud.

  Julia nodded, seeming to understand. “The car’s this way.” She led her sister to the parking garage without talking, much to Eileen’s relief.

  After stowing the bags in the back of the SUV, Julia settled behind the steering wheel. “Let’s head to my place since you don’t have keys to your apartment yet. I’ve arranged for the key exchange on Monday morning at nine. You can shower at my place and have time for a nap before heading to dinner with the parents.”

  Eileen groaned, shoving her head into the padding of the seat.

  “It’s not high on my list of things I wanted to do on a snowy Saturday night either, so don’t even start.” Julia cranked the heat on. “It’ll take a minute to warm up.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready… for mom.” Eileen looked out her side window at the BMW parked next to Julia’s vehicle. It was much like the type her mom drove. Her dad, a New Englander to the core, abhorred drawing attention to his wealth and more than likely still had his beat-up Ford with only three hubcaps.

  “You’ve never known how to handle her.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I’ve learned—to the point where we have a semi-decent relationship.” Julia, with one hand on the back of Eileen’s headrest, checked to see if it was all clear before backing out of the spot and heading for the exit ramp.

  “Semi-decent,” Eileen mocked. “Mom has always been hard on me, blaming me for everything that’s gone wrong in her life.” Her mom had never been shy about reminding Eileen at every possible chance that she’d given up her dreams when she fell pregnant with Eileen.

  “Please.” Julia’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as she guided the smoke-gray Range Rover around the tight curve of the parking garage ramp, the tires squealing on the cement despite the low speed. “She’s just as hard on me. Even more so when you weren’t around.”

  “You didn’t have to stay, you know,” Eileen said, her jaw tightening, becoming acutely aware of her sweaty back from carrying one bag that didn’t compare to the weight of her camera equipment when on assignment.

  Julia, seemingly unperturbed by Eileen’s tone, pressed on. “It’s not that simple. Mom and Dad are getting older. I have to remind them to take their medication. Mom can’t drive at night. Now that Dad’s retired, he doesn’t know how to entertain himself without driving Mom bonkers. I feel like a referee half the time. I have my hands full. I’m glad you’re home and can help some.”

  Eileen rubbed her right hand with her left. “And you think that’s possible? I’m currently struggling to open any bottles and I can’t drive. Not just because my driver’s license expired two years ago.” Eileen sensed Julia quickly glancing at her immobile arm before returning her gaze to the road.

  “Those aren’t the only tasks I need help with. You’re not useless, Ellie. Besides, I’ve missed my older sister. You have a niece and nephew who look up to you, but they don’t actually know you. It took… this for you to come home for the first time in five years. And I’ve lost count how many years it was before this visit.”

  “Are you going to lecture me the entire drive to Derby?” Eileen yawned, setting the side of her head against the seat, fatigue settling in.

  “Close your eyes. You must be exhausted.” Vivaldi was playing in the background and Julia fiddled with the stereo volume to turn it down. “It’s nice to have you home. Really, it is.”

  Eileen opened one eye and appraised her sister whose hair had grown grayer than her natural mousy brown since they’d last seen each other. It must rankle their fastidious mother. That was one quality Eileen actually shared with her mom. Although, she’d hadn’t highlighted her own hair to cover the gray since leaving the hospital. “I never meant to stay away for so long this time. T
he days just slipped by. How are Isabelle and Michael?”

  “Nearly grown. Michael’s graduating high school this spring. Belle the following. It’ll be weird when they’re gone, although I hardly ever see them now. Teenagers have little time for their mothers, apparently.”

  “I remember those days,” Eileen’s voice was soft, infused with sleep. “And James?”

  “He hasn’t changed one bit. Still works too much, but he does his best to be a great father.”

  “Your children are lucky to have him. And you.” Her exhaustion made the words sound much more perfunctory than Eileen intended.

  Julia nudged the volume up a notch, indicating conversation could wait for when Eileen wasn’t half-dead to the world. Ironic, considering, just twenty-one days ago, Eileen had thought for sure she was a goner. And since surviving, a part of her wished she hadn’t. Not in this current state.

  Eileen, with eyes closed and seconds from nodding off, feared she’d made a mistake coming home. Would she become yet another burden to her only sibling, who’d been left keeping the family together when Eileen absconded at the age of twenty-two, so many years ago?

  Her parents’ house hadn’t changed much since Eileen’s childhood. Still massive, with a curved, carpeted staircase situated to the right as you entered the house. Mahogany antique furniture, oriental vases, bronze sculptures of Greek gods and goddesses occupied every nook and cranny, making the house more museum-like than a family home.

  “We’re here,” Julia called, stepping into the house right on Eileen’s heels.

  Eileen’s gaze traveled the expanse of the black and white tiled foyer. A crystal chandelier shone overhead. In the center of the space was a round table with a flower arrangement and statue of Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. What stood out the most was the absence of dust. The spotless, but cold space made Eileen long for her cozy apartment in London, overlooking a private garden. The home suited Trudy Callahan’s personality, however: beautiful on the outside, cold and empty on the inside.

  “There you are. I was expecting you two twenty minutes ago.” Her mom’s perfectly colored hair, in contrast with Julia’s, once again reminded Eileen to make an appointment at a salon sooner rather than later. Eileen took in her mom’s gray duster-length cardigan with a matching turtleneck underneath and black trousers. A necklace fashioned with tortoiseshell disc beads dangled past her plentiful bosom, the opposite of Eileen’s modest breasts. Her mom drifted across the tile, her arms out, pulling the much taller Eileen into an awkward embrace. “How lovely of you to visit.”

  Julia met Eileen’s eyes as if persuading her not to point out the obvious. Not within minutes of her arrival at least. Her parents were fully aware of the reason for Eileen’s return.

  Their father, Bruce, a dead ringer for James Garner, shuffled into the entryway in his dark brown leather deck shoes, Vineyard Vine plaid button-up, and chinos—his go-to outfit no matter the season.

  Eileen smiled, tickled this aspect of her dad hadn’t changed over the years, despite her mom’s harping that he should dress in suits or formal jackets, even for a family meal in his ancestral home. “Hello, Dad.”

  His heartfelt hug comforted her for the first time since…

  “It’s good to have you home,” his voice had a wisp of old man to it.

  Eileen, stunned by how much he’d aged since her last visit, leaned into him briefly and then pulled back, cognizant that her mom stood two feet away. “It’s good to see you.” She hastily added, “Both of you.”

  “Would you like a drink before we sit down for dinner?” Her mom picked some lint off Eileen’s right shoulder.

  Eileen turned her body slightly, protecting her right flank.

  Her mom continued, “It’s so nice just to have the two of you over for dinner. The four of us, back together again.”

  Julia, biting her bottom lip as if trying to curtail a brusque remark, said, “I’d like sparkling water. Sound good to you, Ellie?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” A headache was starting to form behind her eyes, and Eileen chalked it up to not drinking enough water.

  Their father cheerfully dittoed, rolling back onto his heels, digging his hands into his pockets.

  Her mom, with a wounded look, said, “But I decanted a bottle of 2001 Vietti Barolo Villero Riserva for this special occasion.”

  “I’m driving tonight,” Julia countered in a tone that closed the matter. “And, we should have dinner sooner rather than later. I need to get to bed early.” Her stare fell on Eileen.

  Eileen worried the fatigue from her travels would make it impossible to mask her mounting frustration dealing with her mom and a simple reminder, such as not drinking, only highlighted how much her life had drastically changed, adding to her irritation. The doctors had been clear alcohol should be avoided, especially during the first few weeks of her recovery. Julia, who’d flown to London the moment she’d heard, knew all the do’s and don’ts relating to Eileen’s recovery firsthand. Granted, a few weeks had already passed, but knowing the ever-cautious Julia, having a glass of wine to ease the tension wouldn’t be permissible. Clearly, their mom, not surprisingly, was opting to ignore medical opinion along with Julia’s disapproving glare. Or had her mom blocked out the knowledge of Eileen’s medical issue, since that would acknowledge weakness?

  Their father feigned a yawn. “This old man prefers early bird specials for a reason.”

  “Besides their being early, you mean? They’re cheap.” Julia said, laughing, patting his cheek. “How much is Maggie charging for tonight’s feast?”

  He guffawed over the joke. It wasn’t the first time Julia had cracked it.

  “Fine. I didn’t know I was surrounded by old fogies.” Their mom gestured they might as well retire to the dining room. “I’ll let Maggie know we’re ready for dinner, tout de suite. It’s not even six.” She tutted. “Such an uncivilized time for dinner. In Europe—”

  “Hey, girls.” Their father cut off his wife. “If you’re American in the living room what are you in the bathroom?”

  Both Eileen and Julia playfully groaned, responding in unison, “European.”

  “Or Russian.” Their father laughed at his own joke. Standing on Eileen’s left, he crooked his arm for his eldest daughter to thread her good arm through, and then proffered his other elbow to Julia. “It’s not often I’m flanked by two beauties.”

  The French oak table with its parquet top had all the leaves removed, so it sat four comfortably. Usually, when the whole family gathered, there were double the attendees or more if the far-flung members joined them.

  This piece had always been one of Eileen’s favorite items in the house and secretly she hoped she’d inherit it simply for the parquet top. Although now, her mom’s crocheted tablecloth covered the surface. The lacy masterpiece had taken her half a decade to make and it only saw the light of day for special occasions. Eileen suspected Maggie had set the table, not her mom.

  Each took their seat, Julia sitting to Eileen’s right and her father on her left.

  Maggie, significantly grayer since Eileen had last seen her, and slightly stooped, served everyone a grapefruit, walnut, and feta cheese salad. She placed Eileen’s plate last, saying, “I made this just for you.”

  Eileen smiled. “Thanks, Maggie. I haven’t had one since the last time you made it for me.”

  Maggie departed and the Callahans tucked into their salads, no one talking. She returned briefly to pour wine, but her mom was the only one who assented with a curt nod. Maggie left once again.

  Eileen grasped a salad fork with her left hand, awkwardly piercing a grapefruit slice and piece of butter lettuce.

  “That’s new,” her mom’s gaze zeroed in on Eileen’s use of her left hand. “Living in Europe all these years has added sophistication to your etiquette. Maybe you can teach your sister. It’s never too late to better ourselves.”

  Julia glugged her water.

  “Have you been following the Pats?” her father a
sked.

  “Not this season. Is Brady still their quarterback?” Eileen managed to get a walnut onto the tines of the fork, but fumbled it at the last second, only ending up with lettuce in her mouth.

  He nodded, chewing.

  “You know what you should take up while on vacation? Knitting or crocheting.” Her mom tapped the tablecloth. “I made this when I sat around waiting for your dance lessons or soccer practices to end. It helped pass the time and look at the final outcome—something I can hand down to one of you.”

  Eileen blinked, and Julia blanched.

  Her father cleared his throat. “I have an extra ticket to next Sunday’s Pats game if you want to go, Eileen. Julia still has zero interest in football and James said he has to work.” He placed his fork in the five o’clock position indicating he was done, although he’d only eaten a third of the salad. Unusual for the rotund man. Or had his eating habits changed over the years?

  “Maybe. I’ll check my schedule.” Eileen, like her sister, loathed football, but appreciated her father’s diversionary attempt.

  “It’s so hard supporting the sport now with all the documentation about brain damage.” Her mom sipped her red wine. “So many of them end up as vegetables. I always thought, Eileen, you would have made an excellent brain surgeon. Steady hands and wicked smart. Instead you chose to gallivant around the globe from one war zone to another. Running has always been your thing, which is ironic since I was the one who dropped out of college and gave up my dreams of medical school to have you.”