Page 69 of Winter in Paradise
“Okay,” Maia says. She bows her head. “Wait.”
Wait: Huck has done irreparable damage. Something inside of her is broken… or altered. Innocence stolen, spoiled. She now knows she’s the daughter of a cheat and a liar.
“He loved Mama,” Maia says.
“I know,” Huck says.
“But love is messy, complicated, and unfair,” Maia says, like she’s reciting something out of a book.
“That’s a dim view,” Huck says. “I loved your grandmother very much. We were happy.”
“Mama used to say that.”
Rosie might have known about Irene—must have known, Huck thinks. It was one thing for Russell Steele to keep Rosie a secret from Irene. Could he really have kept both sides in the dark? “Did they ever explain where Russ went when he wasn’t around?”
Maia shrugs. “Work.”
“Did they ever say what kind of work?”
“Business,” Maia says. “Finance, money. Boring stuff.”
“Boring stuff indeed,” Huck says. He takes a sustaining breath. He has not ruined her. She had a clue, an inkling, that Russ was keeping secrets. Huck is grateful that Rosie and Russ didn’t see fit to burden Maia with any information about Russ’s business, even though Huck is dying to know what the guy was into. “Okay, now for the tricky part.”
“Tricky?” Maia says.
“My new friend Irene, Russ’s wife, wants to meet you. And she’d like you to meet her sons. They aren’t taking you from me, they’re not taking you anywhere, they just want to meet you.”
“But why?” Maia says. “Wouldn’t they hate me? I’m the daughter of Russ’s girlfriend. Even though Mama is dead, wouldn’t they want… I don’t know… to pretend like I don’t exist? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
Easier, for sure, Huck thinks.
“Part of it is that they’re curious. Part of it is that… well, your mother was right about love being complicated. Irene loved her husband and you’re his child, so”—Huck can’t quite make the transitive property work here, much as he wants to—“she’s interested in you.”
Maia blinks. If she were any older, she might take offense at how objectifying that sounds: “interested,” the way one becomes interested in astronomy or penguins.
“Okay, let me ask you this. Let’s say we found out that your mom had another child, a son, say, that you never knew about until now. You love your mother and maybe you feel betrayed that your mother kept this big, important secret. You would still want to meet your brother, right?”
“I guess,” Maia says. “Do I have a secret brother?”
“Not on your mother’s side,” Huck says. “I can vouch for the fact that your mother was pregnant only once, and that was with you. But what I’m telling you is that you have two brothers. They want to meet you and their mother, Irene, wants to meet you. But you’re in control. If you say no, I’ll politely decline.”
“Will they be upset if we decline?” Maia asks.
“Maybe,” Huck says. “But that shouldn’t affect your answer. You wouldn’t be meeting them so they feel better. You’d be meeting them because you want to.” Huck pauses. The sun is bearing down on him. “I know that may sound selfish, but you have to trust me here. If you want to meet them, we’ll meet them. If you’d rather not, that’s fine. More than fine.”
Maia leans over the side of The Mississippi and peers into the water. Both the bombs have dissolved; all that remains, on the surface, are soap bubbles, like one would find in dishwater. Huck doesn’t want Maia to contemplate this particular spot for too long—the depths of this sea; the darker water below, where Rosie’s body landed.
“I’ll meet them,” Maia says. “But if I don’t like them, I don’t ever have to see them again, right?”
“Right,” Huck says.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Huck is proud of her. She is brave and fierce and incorruptible. Huck can’t believe he thought that either he or Irene Steele or her sons could ruin Maia Small.
No matter what happens with all of this, Huck thinks, Maia is going to be fine.
BAKER
