The Word Game Page 3

  “Ah, Myah, you break my heart.” He clutched at his chest as if his heart were actually breaking.

  “Just sign the papers, please.”

  “What about Keera? Doesn’t she need a father?”

  Taken back, Myah wasn’t sure how to respond. What was going on with him? A midlife crisis? Was he realizing his youth was behind him? Did he see a spark in Keera, one that he now wanted to be a part of nurturing?

  “I don’t know, Eddie. You tell me, what about my daughter?”

  If he thought to placate her with a softening of his eyes and his charming smile, he was sadly mistaken. And, if he thought to use her daughter for his gain, he was in for a rude awakening.

  “Whoa. I know that look. Calm down, sweetheart. I just don’t want to be out of her life. That’s it. I promise.” He held his hands up in mock surrender.

  “You’re not in her life now, Eddie.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Just sign the papers. Please. Everything is amicable and very detailed.” She just wanted this over.

  “What about the theater?”

  She gave him a look of exasperation. “What about it? We’ve already discussed all of this—we have equal ownership. It’s profitable and the only venue in town for shows. We’ll keep it the way it is, other than you now occupy the upstairs apartment and owe rent. We already agreed on all of this.” The theater was the least of her worries, if she was honest. At least with that, she knew she had a steady income stream.

  “I just wanted to make sure none of that changes.” His fingers touched the envelope, and she held her breath, waiting to see if he’d open it. “So you want me to sign these papers, and then what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you for real? We’re getting a divorce, Eddie. There is no and then what for us. All that will remain is the theater. We’ll be business associates, sharing a venue where we both teach classes and hold events. We will live our own separate lives. Is that what you want to hear?”

  He let go of the envelope, and at that moment, she knew this was just one more game for him. She’d had enough. She gathered her purse and started to stand when he reached out and gripped her arm, stopping her.

  “No. That’s not what I want to hear. You’ve never answered me about Keera. About our daughter. I want to remain in her life.”

  The slow boil that flowed through her blood increased in temperature, and if she wasn’t careful, she was about to create a scene.

  She stood up from her seat and planted her palms on the table and glared.

  “She is not our daughter. She is mine. Do you understand that Eddie? Mine. As for her seeing you—that will be up to her. Although, I have a funny feeling, since you’ve never shown any interest in her apart from her dancing, that she isn’t going to care either way.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  Maybe it was his tone, but a little bit of apprehension wormed its way into her heart. Don’t be so sure about that. What did he mean?

  “I asked Keera if we could do breakfast tomorrow, to celebrate, since I obviously didn’t see her tonight. I want her to know how awesome she did, how proud I am of her,” he explained, his tone very different from just moments ago.

  “She didn’t tell me that. When did you ask her?” Why didn’t Keera mention this?

  He leaned back in his seat with a self-satisfied look he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to. “Last night.”

  Myah stood up straight and looked down on the man she once loved. “Don’t you think I’m the one you should be asking? Not Keera. Eddie, she’s not your daughter. You have no legal right to her.” Why did she have to keep reminding him of this?

  His smugness disappeared when he realized she was serious.

  “I’m sorry, love.” He stood up beside her and grabbed her hands, holding them tight in his own. “You’re right. I have to respect the line. Of course I’ll sign the papers, if that is what you want. But please, please don’t take Keera from my life. I know I’m not perfect, but . . . she needs a father figure, something you’ve said yourself. Let me be that. Please? I won’t ask for much. Maybe I can take her out for breakfasts or lunches, keep teaching her routines, and . . .” He suddenly stopped, and Myah knew instantly why.

  “Ah, yes, those moves you’ve been teaching her behind my back. You didn’t think I’d noticed? You know how I feel about her learning the more advanced routines. She’s not going to be competing, so she doesn’t need to know those intricate moves.”

  He hung his head as if in shame. “I’m sorry, Myah. That’s my fault. She . . . she said she was interested and wanted to see if she could do it, so I offered to teach her a little here and there to see if it was something she truly wanted.”

  “Without asking me first? Eddie . . .” Her exasperation with him just hit the limit. “It’s not okay for Keera to keep secrets from me, Eddie. Not okay.” She clutched her purse tightly in her hands. “Those moves, those secret dance lessons, they stop. Now.” She waited for acknowledgment in his gaze and stared at him until she received it. “You want to build a relationship with Keera so she can have a good fatherly influence in her life? Then it starts with not keeping secrets from me. Got it?”

  She didn’t know why she was giving in, why she was agreeing to this, and yet, here she was. “I hate you. You do realize that, right?”

  He had the audacity to smile at her right then. “I know, love. You’ve always been one for fierce passions. I’ll take your love or hatred any day, as long as it never turns to indifference.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her on the lips, but she turned and walked away from him.

  “What about tomorrow?” He called out after her.

  She ignored him. She needed to talk to her daughter first before she made any decisions about breakfast.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IDA

  Saturday morning

  Ida’s mind wandered as she washed the dishes in the sink. Scrub, dip, rinse, and repeat. She once hated the process, forced to clean the plates and cutlery of her family of ten growing up. As a young child, everyone in the home had a chore. Her brothers took care of the outside work with their father, keeping the yard tidy, fixing their car and the farm equipment, and cleaning out the stalls. Two of her older sisters fed the animals daily, while the other girls took care of housework. Her mother had been a hard taskmaster. With twelve people in the house, including two cats and three dogs, one would expect a farmhouse to be dirty, cluttered, and utterly chaotic.

  But Frau Becker did not believe in messiness and instilled that same belief in her children. Ida’s chores were dishes and keeping the kitchen counter clean.

  The day she’d convinced Gordon to install a dishwasher had been one of the best days of her life. So why was she doing dishes now, when Tricia had a dishwasher as well?

  Because it helped to clear her mind.

  “I thought you hated doing dishes?” Her husband, Gordon, said as he came up behind her.

  “Ja, ich weiß.” I know. She glanced over her shoulder. “But the dishwasher is already full. I thought I told her to use paper plates.”

  “I did, Mother.” Tricia held up a large black garbage bag as she stuffed napkins into it. “We ran out, though, for breakfast. A certain someone didn’t pick up enough paper plates last night.” Tricia pointed to her husband.

  “I did offer to wash the dishes,” Mark said.

  “Enough, you two. I don’t mind, and I’m happy to help.” Ida shook her head at her daughter and son-in-law. There was a tension in the air that came from the two of them, despite their efforts to hide it. A mother could tell these things.

  “Who’s left?” Mark asked Tricia as loud thumping music came from the top of the stairs.

  “Just Lyla and Keera,” Tricia said.

  “And they listen to that loud music?” Ida was a bit shocked. She knew the g
irls were into music now, always with headphones attached to their ears, but the music seemed especially loud.

  “I think it’s one of the songs from their routine.” Tricia rubbed her face and dropped the garbage bag. “I’ll go deal with it.”

  “No.” Mark laid his hand on her arm. “I’ve got it.”

  Ida waited until Mark was upstairs. “What’s going on between you two?” She was finished with the dishes and wiped her wet hands on her apron.

  “Nothing. Why?” Tricia hedged. She began to rub her left wrist, moving her cuffed bracelet out of the way. She stopped, pushing the cuff back down into place, when she realized Ida was watching her.

  “Because you two seem grumpy, that’s why,” Gordon said to his daughter. Ida was surprised he’d noticed the tension too.

  “We’re just tired. Having that many kids probably wasn’t my greatest idea.” Tricia then yawned.

  “They were up all night, were they? Any fooling around?” Ida asked.

  Gordon sat down at the now clean kitchen table. “I told you,” he said to Ida.

  “Told her what?” Tricia turned to face her father. “What did you say? What did he say?”

  Ida went and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Ignore him.”

  “I told your mother something was going to happen last night. Kids will be kids. I remember what you and your sister were like at that age. No doubt they were all sneaking off with one another. It’s those hormones.” Gordon teased his daughter, completely oblivious to the way she was clutching her hands. Couldn’t he see she wasn’t in the mood to be teased? And that this was a subject he knew nothing about?

  “Still, du Narr!” Quiet, you fool! If he would only just leave things alone.

  “Grandma, no German!” Gord Jr., Tricia’s youngest and named after her father, walked into the kitchen and gave his mother a hug, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What did she say?” he asked.

  “She just called your grandpa an old fool and told him to be quiet.”

  Ida caught the glare her daughter gave her father. He deserved it too.

  “What would you know about kids? And your daughters were never like that.” Ida tsk-tsked then went to sit down beside him at the table.

  “I remember enough. Especially what it’s like to be a boy in a house full of girls.” Gordon winked at his grandson, and Ida placed her hand on her husband’s arm, warning him to stop.

  “Brandon and a few of the girls were found in David’s bedroom last night.” Gord Jr. piped up.

  “Tricia, no!” This was news. Why hadn’t Tricia told her this before now?

  “Why don’t you go join your brothers now?” Tricia gave her son a frown before shooing him back where he came from. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she said, once her son had left.

  “Not that big of a deal? Of course it is.” Ida said.

  “It’s not. And it’s being dealt with, and besides”—she looked up at Mark who was coming back down the stairs—“nothing happened.”

  Ida tightened her lips but didn’t say anything. Nothing happened, her foot. How was she dealing with it? What girls?

  “I just saw Myah pull up. Keera’s getting her stuff together now,” Mark said quietly to Tricia.

  So Keera was involved. That poor child. Growing up fatherless, and then having Eddie, a womanizer, be part of her life. No wonder that girl was sneaking around at night with boys. The kids these days, they get too much leeway, with too much freedom. Not like when she was a child.

  “I’ll go meet her,” Tricia said.

  When Tricia left the room, Ida decided to find out from her son-in-law what was going on.

  “Nothing too serious, Ida. Just kids being kids,” Mark said. “I did worse at their age. Trust me. Tricia is just upset because it was Keera and Katy.”

  Ida gasped.

  “Calm down, woman,” Gordon shook his head at her. “Sounds like it’s all been handled, and there’s no reason for you to cause a scene.”

  “A scene? Who said I was causing a scene? And don’t you tell me to calm down, old man. I have a right to be concerned.” Ida glared at her husband.

  “He’s right,” Mark interjected. “It’s been handled. Gordon, I need to run over to the Peterson’s job site to take a look at some issues. Want to join me?”

  Gordon shook his head. “No, I trust you to handle it. These old bones can’t climb all those stairs at their place. Why someone would want a three story plus basement is beyond me.”

  Ida frowned. “If I need to go home, I’m sure Tricia can take me. Go. Get out of my hair.” Gordon had retired from the day-to-day work at Wilhem & Sons, but he couldn’t stay home all the time. He needed to stay busy. Otherwise he became a grumpy old bear, which in turn made her miserable. The golden life of retirement quickly lost its appeal with the husband underfoot.

  Ida and Gordon sat at the table in silence, when Tricia walked back in and called up to Keera to tell her that her mom had arrived.

  “I’m going to go have coffee with Myah for a bit. Do you mind?” Tricia asked her. “I shouldn’t be gone longer than an hour.”

  Ida shook her head. “Go. Enjoy the coffee. The kids and I will make cookies while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I should be back before Aly comes to pick up Lyla. There’s a dance practice today, just to go over last night, so I won’t be long.”

  “Katy’s not going though, right?”

  Tricia nodded. “Right. She’s done, for now. We’ll see how long that lasts though. I thought she was really enjoying something for once.”

  The girls all came down the stairs, a bit somber.

  “I hear you girls are going to make cookies with Grandma. Have fun.” Tricia gave Katy a kiss on the top of her head and then hugged Lyla. “Thanks for coming over last night, sweetie. I’m glad you had a fun time.”

  Ida caught the glances between the girls and knew something was up. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just whispered secrets that had nothing to do with anything other than being a girl at a sleepover.

  “Thanks, Mom, for staying.” She took a step toward Ida. “Please, let me handle things, okay?” She said quietly.

  Ida sighed. “Whatever.” She threw up her hands and then followed the crowd out to the front door.

  “I hear you’re having breakfast with Eddie,” Tricia said as Keera put on her shoes and coat. “That must be why you didn’t eat a lot of pancakes this morning.”

  “Just not hungry.” Keera grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

  “Okay then,” Tricia mumbled before she followed her. She waved good-bye to Katy and Lyla, smiled at her mom, and closed the door.

  “All right,” Ida clapped her hands together. “Who’s in the mood to make cookies?” She led the girls back into the kitchen muttering beneath her breath.

  “What’s the matter with you now?” Gordon poured himself a coffee.

  “Etwas ist los, und ich bin nicht glücklich.” Something is going on, and I’m not happy. Her husband gave her a look telling her to be quiet with the kids around.

  “Grandma!” Gord Jr. popped up from the other side of the counter and wiggled his finger at her. “No German. We can’t understand what you’re saying.” He admonished her.

  “I know, I know.” She shook her head in disgust. Why Tricia didn’t teach her children to speak the mother tongue, she’d never understand. “Vielleicht sollten Sie dann etwas Deutsche lernen.”

  “Grandma.” This time it was Elijah who huffed at her from the kitchen table. “What did you say?”

  “That maybe you should learn a little German then, no?” She used to speak to her grandchildren in German until Alyson asked her to stop. She’d assumed Tricia felt the same way.

  “How?” Elijah seemed interested, which made Ida happy.
>
  “We could teach you.” Gordon stood there, his arms crossed over his massive puffed out chest.

  “I used to sing lullabies to you as babies. Do you remember?” Ida smiled, the memory warming her heart. Gordon had built a rocking chair for the baby room, and she’d sit there, rocking the little ones to sleep to give Tricia a breather, and she’d sing the songs her own Mutter would sing.

  “What would you sing?” Elijah left his seat and came to stand by the counter.

  Gordon winked at her before he placed his arm around his grandson’s shoulder. “You don’t want to remember. Trust me. Your Oma has the voice of a dying cat.”

  Elijah’s eyes grew round, while Ida tried not to laugh. “Your Opa doesn’t sound any better.”

  “Can I”—Elijah lowered his voice—“can I call you Oma and Opa instead of Grandma and Grandpa?”

  Tears pricked at Ida’s eyes at her grandson’s question. “You used to call us that, you know?” She wasn’t sure when it stopped, probably around the same time they stopped speaking in German to them.

  “Us too?”

  Ida turned toward her girls, who stood there with their arms around each other. She went over and gave them both a hug. “Of course.” She said.

  Katy struggled to get out of her embrace. “Can we make cookies now? Please?”

  “Pretty please?” Lyla snuggled in closer to Ida and sighed with happiness.

  Ida couldn’t get over how different the girls were. As cousins, they’d been inseparable from the time they were born, and now as young girls, they continued to be the best of friends, even if so very different in nature. Lyla was prim and proper, the perfect little girl, whereas Katy could be a little hellion masquerading as an angel when she wanted to be.

  “How do you say cookies in German, Oma?” Elijah asked.

  “Kekse. And your Oma here makes the best ones I’ve ever tasted. Even better than my own Mutter.” Gordon smiled.

  “And that means ‘mother,’ right?”

  “Ja.”

  “Why are you speaking in German?” Katy’s face was scrunched up, and Ida shook her head.