One Week In December by Holly Chamberlin Page B

blurted.
    Julie added a final dirty plate to the stack at the end of the table. “Is anything the matter, honey?” she asked.
    Yes. Everything. “No, nothing’s the matter. I just need to talk to everyone about something very important.”
    Becca saw her father blanch. Good, she thought. He should be afraid. He should be made to acknowledge the pain that he caused.
    â€œCan it wait until I clean up a bit?” Julie asked, lifting the empty bowl that had once been full of mashed potatoes.
    â€œNo. I’d prefer to do it now. In the living room.”
    Julie put the bowl back on the dining room table.
    â€œWell, then,” Nora said briskly, “let’s get to it.”

10
    â€œSo,” Becca concluded, “the sooner I tell her that I’m her birth mother, the better things will be.” Becca sat with her back straight, hands firmly planted on her knees. There. She had said it. She had announced her intentions.
    The Rowans were in the living room, Nora in her favorite armchair and the others ranged around on the couch and in various chairs. Becca had moved hers a bit apart from the others in an unconscious gesture of avoidance, or maybe even of fear.
    Her brother, predictably, was the first to speak. “Excuse me,” he said, loudly and with a rough laugh, “but I don’t see it that way at all!”
    Becca was ready for her opponent, which was how she viewed every member of the family in that room. “I’m sorry,” she said, “that you don’t agree with me. But I’ve given this a lot of thought, David.”
    â€œI don’t think you have,” he retorted. “This is crazy.”
    Olivia’s expression was cold and hard. “You’re out of your mind, Becca.”
    Julie frowned at her oldest child, then she turned to Becca. “Becca, dear, we agreed that when Rain turns twenty-one we’d discuss whether or not to tell her the truth about her birth. We agreed to talk about her level of emotional and mental maturity. We agreed to assess the risks. But not before then. Certainly, not when she’s only sixteen. She’s still so young.”
    â€œSixteen is not so young, Mom,” Becca argued. “Not these days. The popular culture in which kids are raised today—”
    David cut her off. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “Are you sick or something? No, seriously, are you dying? Is this your crazy dying wish? Because if it is, I need the name of your shrink right away.”
    â€œOf course I’m not dying. I’m perfectly fine. I’m in excellent health, physical and mental. I’m in perfect condition to take care of my child.”
    Finally, her father spoke. “But as your mother said, we had an agreement.” To Becca, he sounded utterly bewildered. Well, she would attempt to make things perfectly clear.
    â€œNot a legally binding agreement,” she pointed out. “And we all know that even insignificant things like rules and regulations and promises can always be ignored when necessary.” Becca looked pointedly at her father. “Right, Dad? You were the chief architect of the plan to pass off Rain as David and Naomi’s daughter. You know all about breaking things. And you know all about lying.”
    Steve didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t. His wife took his hand.
    â€œBecca,” Nora murmured, “that’s unfair.”
    â€œIs it? Look, I want to be more to Rain than her aunt. I deserve to be more to her.”
    David shot to his feet. Becca couldn’t help but flinch. “I’m not sure you deserve anything other than a good thrashing. I’m totally shocked that you would even consider disrupting Rain’s life in such a—in such a brutal way. Your own daughter.”
    â€œDavid,” Naomi murmured.
    He sat down again heavily, reluctantly.
    â€œThe only reason you’re all so upset is that you just