Daughters Read Online Free

Marie. Do you favor your mother?”
    Marie’s heartbeat wavered. What exactly did that mean? Was she being sarcastic? She suddenly remembered one of the things she wanted to say to Claire, but now she had to concentrate on Claire’s question. Did she just ask me if I take after my mother?
    “Yes, I do.” Her voice stuck in her throat, making it difficult to get the words out. “I have a picture of her when she was in her twenties, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think it was me in the picture.” How stupid was that? So now every time she looks at me, she’ll see her husband’s former lover.
    Claire turned around from the counter to face Marie, gave her a weak smile, and said, “She must have been very beautiful, then.” She turned her back toward Marie to continue what she was doing.
    A soft flush swept up Marie’s neck. Good grief. How can I turn this around?
    “Thank you. And Claire?”
    “Yes?”
    Marie swallowed. “Thank you for…well, for welcoming me into your home.”
    “You’re welcome,” she said with her back still toward Marie, her voice low and soft, without any inflection.
    “You have a lovely home.” Had she already say that? Marie’s stomach felt like someone had just punched it.
    Claire didn’t respond. Instead she wiped her hands on a dish towel and sat down beside her. Marie bit the inside of her lip, unable to breathe.
    “You have to know this is hard for me.”
    Marie nodded, afraid to speak. Claire looked past Marie, toward the living room. “I keep telling myself what happened between Jonathan and your mother happened a lifetime ago, and that you had nothing to do with it. But that doesn’t make this any easier.”
    “I know.”
    “I gave this a lot of thought the past couple of days while Jon was away, fetching you.” She leaned back in her chair and looked deeply into Marie’s eyes. “I don’t know if he told you this, but my first reaction was, ‘Don’t involve me in this. It’s your problem. You deal with it by yourself.’” Her voice softened. “But I know what it’s like to not know who your parents are. I never knew mine, so how could I stand by and let that happen to someone else?”
    Claire got up from her chair and went back to her food preparation. After a few seconds, she said, “I’ve forgiven him for what he did, Marie. Now it’s time to move on.”
    Marie wasn’t sure what to think. She felt she should say something to quell the dreadful silence that now filled the room.
    “Mm-hmm.” Idiot! She had just agreed that it was time for Claire to move on. Who was she to agree to that? How insensitive could she be?
    Convinced it was better to just keep her mouth shut and be thought a heartless fool than to open it again and remove all doubt, Marie kept silent while she finished peeling the carrots. She had never lacked self-confidence before and didn’t like herself much for it now.
    Claire didn’t say anything more until they sat down to eat. “I know you two have had a lot of time to catch up in the car,” Claire said, “but if you don’t mind, Marie, can you tell me about yourself?” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll probably be asked the same questions over and over again by the time your visit is over. As you can imagine, there’s an abundance of curiosity running in this family.”
    “I pretty much expected that.” Marie recounted her story, starting with what life was like before her mother died. Then she took them through her college years in New York and her return to Chicago afterward. When she got to her job at Marshall Field’s, Claire’s facial expression changed. She told Marie that the first time she had gone into that store in 1925, she had been asked to leave.
    “Nineteen twenty-five? That was the year I was born,” Marie professed.
    “Yes, I know.” A flash of melancholy swept across Claire’s face. “Jonathan was in Chicago for some sort of business, and I had come along.” She gave