Chapter 2
“Dad, I’m home!” I say loudly as I walk into our small two story house. I dump my leather satchel bag I use for school by the stairs before walking into the kitchen.
“Dad?” I call out again as I look around with a frown. I go over to the window, smiling slightly as I see him hunched over some plants in the back. I move around the table and to the door quickly, rolling up my long sleeve shirt as I go. “Hey dad!” I call out as I move across the small green lawn. He looks up me, smiling.
“Hello pumpkin, how was your day?” he asks as he moves over a little to let me crouch beside him. I shrug as I pull the weeds out of the small flower box. I know what you’re thinking. Why would a bachelor and his daughter have a flower box? My mom loved flowers, and I guess this is the way my dad holds onto her.
“Same old thing,” I say. My sigh echoes his own. “How about your day?”
“Got a letter in from your grandparents,” he says, and I flinch slightly. I sit up and look at him.
“What did it say?” I ask, my voice hard as steel. He shrugs, his brown eyes speaking their own tense curiosity.
“I didn’t open it. It’s addressed to you,” he says, but I’m already standing and moving towards the house. “Now Belle,” he says using my nickname, “I want you to read it and keep a level head alright?” I snort as I open the back door.
“Why should I? It’s not like mom’s family ever wanted anything from me before. In fact, I believe the one time I did see mom’s mom she told me that I was ugly and a good for nothing brat. And I was four!” I say, grabbing the rag on the stove to wipe the moist dirt from my hands. I toss it onto the dining room table, grabbing the stack of letters from the holder.
“I know Belle,” dad says, coming to stand across from me. I glance up to see his brown eyes looking at me sadly. “Who knows, maybe they want to try and reconnect with you since your mom,” he says, gulping and looking away. I sigh, rubbing my forehead.
“Maybe, but I don’t want to reconnect with them. They’re no good pompous imbeciles,” I retort, getting a chuckle out of him. I flip through a few more bills before stopping at a crème color envelope. I snort at the fancy cursive on the front of the thick letter. “Well, here goes nothing,” I say half heartedly. I pull out a chair using my foot, and plot down on it. I tuck my jean covered legs under me, and tear the envelope open.
Dear Annebella,
First and foremost, I am sorry for your lost. Clarissa will be missed dearly. She was a fantastic daughter for the most part, and I know you must have loved her. This isn’t the reason why I am writing to you, though. It has come to my attention that this side of the family hasn’t been as open as we should be with you. We haven’t been a part of your life, but we want to be.
In our family, when a girl turns seventeen, it is seen as a turning point. You become a woman and are treated as such. It’s a special time for us. I recently found out that you will be turning seventeen in a few short weeks, and we would appreciate it if you would let us spend it with you.
Please reply back as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Mary De Luca
I drop the letter with a huff. “Well, that was the most formal letter I have ever seen.”
“What do they want?” dad asks, coming around to my side. I see the worry lines thick on his face, and I know what he’s afraid of. My grandparents could fight him in court for custody over him, and they might be able to win. My grandparents are well off financially. My father, not so much.
“They want me to spend my 17th birthday with them,” I say snorting. “They even said it was special to their family.”
“Oh, well-“
“I’m not doing it dad,” I say standing up.
My dad sighs as he rubs circles in his temple. “Belle, maybe you should go,” he says, looking at me with sad brown eyes. I freeze, staring at my dad in shock. “I mean, it might help you get over your mother’s death. Maybe they actually want to meet-“
I hold up a hand, “Okay, stop right there. Are you telling me you would willingly let me go to those people? If they wanted to get to know me, they had sixteen other years to do it!”
Dad sighs, standing up from the table. He comes around, tugging me into a hug. He lays his cheek on my wavy brown hair, sighing. “Listen Belle, wouldn’t you want to say that you at least gave them a try? They’re your family too, and they can share your history with you. Wouldn’t it be worth it, just a little?” He pulls me back, and I bite my lip. It would make sense, I guess. And I’ve always been interested in our history. I know my mom’s side was Italian, but that was all she knew about it. My dad came from Iceland, actually, but he doesn’t know much about his side either.
“I guess,” I mumble unenthusiastically. “But, you have to come with me,” I say and he nods, smiling.
“Of course,” he replied and I smile.
“I guess this means that we’re spending Christmas in Italy,” I say, breaking out of my dad’s hold. “And, seeing as though my birthday is only a week away, we probably should get our tickets.”
My dad nods, before frowning off into the distance. “Actually, I think your grandparents have a private jet,” he says and I snort.
“Again I repeat the adjective pompous.” My dad laughs, patting me on the shoulder before going back to work in the garden. I pick up the letter again, frowning at the words. By the way they were written, it didn’t sound like they wanted to get to know me. It sounds more like they have to tell me something. I frown as I tear out a piece of college ruled paper, writing my grandmother a short reply back. I smirk down at my letter. It sounds just as impersonal as hers.
