"Archer, stop being so dramatic!" Stephen scolded his grandson sternly. "You are encouraging your sister to throw away her life and everything she worked hard for. We want her to return home and take back those things. She belongs with Alden’s family, where there is security, money, and status! Why are you letting her rot in this place?"
"Because this ’place’ is her home, and we are her real family!" Donna shouted, her eyes watering with a mixture of intense grief and explosive anger. Her voice shook as she faced her in-laws directly. "You stand there talking about status and money, but you don’t care about the fact that Alden and Heimi stole the girl I raised! I gave Ritah years of my life!
I breastfed her; I wiped her tears, I stayed up when she was sick, I loved her with everything I had! And Alden and Heimi snatched her away the moment they found out she was biologically theirs. They poisoned her mind against us, while treating Claire like she was less! And now you want Claire to run back to them so they can control both of them! You will have to kill me first."
Emelda ignored Donna completely, pushing past Archer and Victor to reach out a trembling, wrinkled hand toward Claire. "Claire! Please, stop listening to these bitter people! You are breaking this family apart with your stubbornness! Your grandfather and I are begging you. Pestering you if we have to! If you just forgive your uncle, your aunt, and your cousin Ritah, everything can go back to being perfect. We can be a whole, happy family again. Just come home with us!"
The area between the porch and living room devolved into absolute chaos. Stephen was sternly lecturing Victor about being respectful of the wishes of the elderly. Donna was weeping tears of rage. Emelda was pleading and demanding all at once and Grandma Wilder was standing on her feet, shouting a barrage of curses that would make a sailor blush, and Archer had his fists charged and ready to launch.
"You manipulative, spineless old hags!" Wilder roared, her voice carrying over everyone else’s. "You don’t give a damn about Claire! You just want to sweep Alden’s dirty laundry under the rug, so your precious family name doesn’t get ruined in the church circles!"
The mounting noise, the high-pitched arguments, and the overwhelming pressure crashed over Claire like a suffocating wave. The headache that had been brewing behind her eyes all morning suddenly spiked into a sharp, throbbing pain.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t process their relentless demands, their fake promises of dates with nice boys, or their sickening excuses for Andrew and Ritah’s betrayal.
Claire raised her hands and covered her ears tightly. She stood up abruptly from her chair, her face pale and her body trembling slightly with exhaustion.
"Stop it! Just stop!" Claire cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of her fatigue.
Everyone went silent at the same time. They all turned to look at her.
Claire took a deep, shaky breath, lowering her hands from her ears. She looked at Stephen and Emelda with completely hollow, dead eyes. "I don’t have a problem with you, grandpa Stephen, or you, grandma Emelda," Claire said, her voice dropping into a flat, icy tone. "I know you think you are helping in your own twisted way but it’s useless. I am done. I am completely done with Alden and Heimi and Ritah and Andrew. Oh...and Alden’s sons too."
"And that man-grabbing whore too!" Wilder added helpfully from the side, nodding her head vigorously.
"Mother!" Donna cried out in mild reprimand, though the rest of the people around didn’t even react_ they were all too accustomed to Wilder’s sharp, unfiltered tongue.
Emelda shook her head in deep, bitter disappointment, looking at Claire as if she were a colossal failure. "Claire, you are being so unbelievably selfish! You are breaking this family apart! How can you be so heartless after everything we’ve said to you today?"
Claire looked at Emelda for a long, quiet moment. She didn’t argue. She didn’t yell. She simply didn’t have the strength left to give them the reaction they wanted.
"I’m going out for a walk and when I return, I want you two gone or I am calling the police." Claire said with finality.
She turned her back on her grandparents and walked down the path leading to the mountain. Archer followed her, just to make sure that she was okay.
The moment her figure vanished, Wilder stepped forward, pointing a crooked, angry finger right at Emelda’s nose, her eyes wide with fury.
"Look at what you did, you old bat!" Wilder barked, her voice booming through the house. "You came in here with your sweet-talking lies and made her upset! Get your lazy, arrogant butts out of this house before I throw a heavy shoe right at your head!"
Emelda sneered, looking around with a look of disgust as if the entire house were a filthy trash dump. She turned her snobbish gaze toward Donna, who was standing beside Victor with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"Talk some sense into your daughter, Donna!" Emelda demanded sharply, adjusting her walker. "Alden is still willing to accept her back so she doesn’t have to live in a dump like this for the rest of her life. You should be happy about this, not fighting it."
Victor stepped directly in front of his mother, towering over her and cutting off her line of sight. His face was darker than anyone had ever seen it.
"It’s time for you to leave," Victor said, his voice dangerously low and quiet. "Now."
Recognizing that they had pushed too far and that Victor was genuinely ready to throw them out himself, Stephen took Emelda by the arm. Disappointed and huffing with indignation, the old couple turned around and began shuffling away from the house.
Victor, Donna and Donovan all stood on the porch, watching in heavy silence as Emelda slowly pushed her walker down the paved driveway. The old woman was complaining loudly to Stephen the entire way about the smell of the ocean, the rudeness of their son, and the lack of proper respect.
Donna let out a long, shuddering breath and wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes staring blankly out at the driveway.
"Well..." Donna said, her voice laced with deep, quiet hurt. "I guess they don’t have to hide who their favorite son is anymore."
Wilder marched out onto the front porch, her slippers slapping against the wood. She stood at the edge of the steps, looked down at the green grass where her in-laws had just walked, and spat right onto the lawn with pure disgust.
"Bunch of phony, snobbish jackasses!" Wilder yelled after their retreating figures. "Do not come back here." She spun and looked at her husband, saying with concerning seriousness, "It’s time to buy a gun. Holy water will not help with this mess."