Forbidden Boy Read online

  She was shocked that she could feel this lousy. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. She had completely destroyed everyone she loved. And, to top it all off, her mother’s painting was totally ruined. The paint had twisted into grotesque lumps of oil and plastic; even the canvas underneath had warped. She wouldn’t even know where to begin to repaint it. It had been so hard the first time, Julianne couldn’t imagine trying to reconstruct it now—what with most of the summer light gone, along with the view of the beach that had informed it in the first place, not to mention her ability to see anything beautiful in the world at all. She had somehow managed to lose every single thing she cared about. Julianne moved through the living room, trying to separate out cushions that were ruined from ones that were still usable. She had been planning on taking the now saggy, waterlogged ottoman out back to dry a bit before she left it on the curb, but it had started pouring again right after she returned from the hardware store. She set up fans to dry out the rest of the soggy furniture and mopped up the few puddles that had collected along the floor moldings when the rain picked up again. Frustrated at how little progress she was making, she sat on the window seat, looking out on the angry gray waves, her forehead pressed against the cold glass and her ruined painting sitting dejectedly at her feet.

  Julianne felt the chill of the dampening windowpane sink into her forehead and settle behind her eyes. As the cold seared its way into her brain, she tried to see the ocean through the foggy window. In the periphery of her vision, she saw palm trees bending over themselves. It looked to her like they were trying not to break in two. Julianne knew the feeling. She thought of all the times during the summer that she’d felt like everything was a mess and she just felt stupid. Deeply, profoundly stupid. She wished she had appreciated how lucky she was before it all fell apart. Even though she was terrified that her family would lose their house, there had at least been something comforting to fall back on. Chloe had been her best friend. Dad had been tirelessly optimistic. She’d been caught up in the whirlwind thrill of loving Remi. If nothing else, she’d had things to work toward. Toward finishing her painting, toward saving the house, toward finding a way to be with Remi. Now there was nothing to run to. Chloe couldn’t even look at her without turning eggplant purple, and Dad would undoubtedly feel the same way when he got back. She’d misjudged Remi, and now the Moores were going to take her home. And, of course, there was the fact that her heart had been torn into millions of microscopic pieces.

  Julianne pushed herself up off the cushions and paced through the musty living room, her footsteps keeping time with the raindrops outside the window. She was moving so quickly that when she looked down, she saw nothing but a brightly colored trail of hot pink toenail polish. Swiping her tears away wildly, Julianne told herself, I will not cry. Not now. She gazed down at her pajamas, a black sleeveless T-shirt and drawstring pants printed with cartoon sushi rolls, and almost didn’t recognize them. Julianne felt strangely separate from the body they were hanging off of.

  Outside, the rain was still pouring down in bucket loads and the wind was shrieking, but Julianne didn’t care. She couldn’t sit around with her racing thoughts for one second longer or something was going to snap. I just need to do something, she told herself. She sprinted up the stairs and made a beeline for her bedroom. Julianne threw on her grubbiest painting clothes. Then, without looking back, she rushed out of her room and bolted down the stairs, barefoot.

  She threw herself into cleaning the house from top to bottom, keeping herself focused on the task at hand. Before she knew it, she was sliding around on the wood floors, rags tied to her knees and feet like one of the orphans in Annie. She polished all of the candlesticks and the silver coffee percolator that probably hadn’t shined since her parents got them as wedding presents. She even called to rent a steam cleaner for the water stains on the living room rug. Then she did all of her laundry.

  Julianne stayed up all night, cleaning and scrubbing, and when the morning sun shone through the back windows, it was undeniable how beautiful her home was. It was bright and open, yet still cozy. When she scrubbed the windows of the balcony attached to her bedroom, she was literally breathless at the streaks of orange, pink, and lavender reflecting off the ocean as the sun was rising. From the bay window off of Julianne’s balcony, the beach went on forever—at least when she had her back to the Moores’ glass house—and the ocean went even farther. She understood exactly why her mother had known this house would be their home the first time she saw it.

  As she tiptoed through the house, Julianne had the strangest feeling that her mom was walking with her. Every beam of sunlight—bouncing from one surface Julianne had scrubbed to another—seemed to have her mother all over it. Julianne crept into the living room and curled up on the couch, watching as morning spread across the beach. She felt quiet and peaceful for the first time all week.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Julianne smoothed the fringe around the edge of the pillow she was clutching and tried to take deep, cleansing breaths. She could hear her father downstairs and knew it was time to face the music. Chloe was finishing up her shift at the hospital, so Julianne figured it was a good time to throw herself on her father’s mercy, admit that she was a horrible person and a disgrace to the family, and get disowned. This way, if things went really badly, she could still be out of the house and on her way to join a circus troupe by dinnertime.

  Her father was moving his bags from the foyer into his studio, rifling through some papers, when Julianne stuck her head into the room. Her heart was pounding at what could not be a healthy rate, and she was pretty sure that her knees had stopped working. Their cozy little foyer suddenly seemed menacing and dark. She took a deep breath, counted to ten (which might have been more like a count to fifty), and forced her legs to move forward.

  “Hi, Dad. Welcome back. Um, can I talk to you for a second?” Julianne tried to sound upbeat as she slid down onto one of the huge cushions on the window seat, hoping to lose herself in the crevices. “I’m so sorry, Dad, but I have some things I need to tell you.” Mr. Kahn sat next to his youngest daughter.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you okay?” Dad patted Julianne’s back as she took another deep breath and tried not to cry. He looked so kind and worried that Julianne felt like her heart might break all over again. She tried to steady herself for the words that had to come next. Then she took another deep breath and pulled her mop of hair up off of her neck.

  Julianne began slowly. “Um, Dad, while you were gone…” She paused and looked into her father’s patient green eyes and felt her nerve begin to waver. “While you were gone, the living room flooded. Everything is mildewed.”

  Her father’s eyes moved furtively around the room, from the window seat to the bookshelves and back. “The place does look a little worse for wear,” he noted. “But it doesn’t even smell like mildew in here.”

  Julianne felt her cheeks flush with guilt. “I steam cleaned.” She kept her eyes on the hem of her linen patchwork skirt.

  “Jules, sweetie, I sense that you’re not telling me the whole story. Did you and Chloe throw some crazy party while I was gone?” Dad’s brow creased and he cocked his head toward his daughter.

  Julianne shook her head mutely, her eyes glued to the floor.

  Dad continued, “Because I seem to remember another weekend not so long ago when I returned to find there’d been a Slip ’n’ Slide–related mishap in the living room.” His voice trailed off.

  “That was not a party!” Julianne blurted out. “That was performance art!” To this day, Dad had never made his daughters replace any of the vases broken during that ill-fated event, out of respect for their artistic vision. Julianne felt a small smile creeping onto her face and didn’t try to hold it back. Smiling felt good after a week of being frozen in grief. A few tentative giggles welled up in her throat and escaped her lips.

  Then, all of a sudden, the floodgates opened and all of the desperation, guilt, and sadnes
s that Julianne had been pushing down came rushing out of her in a jumble.

  “I didn’t mean to betray the family, Dad!”

  “Julianne, what are you talking about? Don’t be silly! You could never betray us.” Dad’s voice was comforting, but Julianne also heard confusion in it. She heard a clicking noise beyond the living room, but she was too focused on her confession to investigate further.

  “No, really, I did. I never meant to, but I did!” Julianne continued.

  “Jules, I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, but I do know that you could never betray us. I know how much you love your sister and me.” The kindness in Dad’s voice sent Julianne over the edge. In between sobs and gasps, the entire story of her summer romance came pouring out.

  “I’m so sorry, Dad,” she finished in a great rush of tears. “I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could undo all of it. I’m sorry for betraying the family and for betraying Mom’s memory and for everything. I’m sorry I fell in love with Remi. I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t help it. It just happened. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her blue eyes were drowning with tears as she peered up into her father’s face waiting for the worst.

  Dad smiled and Julianne let out a long breath–it was her first exhale all week that hadn’t been soaked in sobs. “I wish I could forgive you, kiddo, but I can’t.”

  Julianne swallowed and felt her heart sink to her feet.

  “I can’t forgive someone who doesn’t have anything to be sorry for. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Dad spoke with a quiet resolution. He looked over his daughter’s shoulder, out onto the mangled beach.

  Julianne’s heart zoomed back into place and threatened to tear right through her chest.

  “You’re not angry?” She said it slowly, disbelievingly.

  “Julianne, I don’t have anything to be angry about. Do I wish that you didn’t hide things from me? Of course. Every parent wishes that. Do I wish you felt comfortable enough to tell me that you were feeling pressured and conflicted? You know that I do. But you’re old enough to make your own decisions about the kind of support you need from your family.” Dad’s voice remained calm, almost pleasant, as he spoke.

  Julianne couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her father hadn’t completely understood her confession. She had practically been sleeping with the enemy—well, not sleeping with the enemy, but definitely making out with the enemy—for weeks, and he wasn’t even batting an eyelash.

  As soon as Julianne opened her mouth, she knew she would regret it, but she just had to ask, “But after everything the Moores have done to you—to us—you’re not angry?” She let her voice trail off, slightly afraid of what was coming next.

  Her dad paused, clearly weighing his words before sighing and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Look. What the Moores are doing—it’s terrible. It’s greedy, it’s wasteful, and it’s unkind. There’s no doubt that these folks play dirty, and there’s no doubt that I disagree—I can’t stress enough how strongly—with what they want to do with our property. But this kid isn’t the one doing it. His parents are.”

  “But he’s not even trying to stop them!” Julianne was surprised at how easily she moved to attack Remi.

  “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. I don’t know. That’s not my concern. But Julianne, this Remi isn’t his parents. He’s not his family. He’s not the one doing this.” Dad’s voice remained clear and slow, like he was doing a public service announcement. “Imagine if the situation were turned on its ear, okay? Let’s say that you really wanted us to sell the house…”

  “But…” Julianne tried to cut in, but her father continued with his example, drowning out her feeble protests.

  “It’s just an example, okay? Stick with me, here. Let’s say that you really wanted us to sell the house, but Chloe and I didn’t agree.” He looked at Julianne for an indication that she was following the same train of thought.

  “Okay…” Julianne conceded hesitantly.

  “If Chloe and I said to you, ‘Julianne, we know you don’t agree with what we want, but, as a member of our family, we really need your support in not selling the house,’ would you support us?” Dad asked quietly.

  “Of course I would. You’re my family.” Julianne was a little bit surprised her father would ask something so obvious.

  “Then why is it so impossible to think that this boy would do the same thing for his family?” Dad pressed gently.

  Blood rushed to Julianne’s face. Her head was suddenly swirling with frustration and confusion, thoughts tripping over each other like clowns in a mad rush to get out of their tiny car. “Why are you defending him?”

  Dad took a few moments’ pause, and Julianne’s stomach started back up with its familiar twisting. “I’m not defending him, Jules—I don’t even know him. But it’s obvious that he’s pretty important to you…”

  Julianne looked down at her feet. The radiant pink polish she had borrowed from Chloe weeks ago was starting to chip.

  “And you should certainly know what it feels like to want to support and stand up for your family. It’s what you’ve always done for us.” Dad reached out and tousled Julianne’s hair before getting up and heading for the kitchen, leaving her to sort out her tangled thoughts by herself.

  “You know, I had a feeling something was going on all summer.” Dad stopped and turned back toward Jules, his hazel eyes twinkling.

  “How?” Julianne’s head snapped around toward her father, her mouth agape.

  “You were never around. Even when you weren’t working with Bill or painting, I practically never saw you. And you know, I don’t think Remi’s parents had seen much of him, as I recall from some extremely awkward small talk.” Julianne blushed. “It’s really okay, honey,” her father continued offhandedly. “Believe it or not, I was in love once too.”

  Julianne leapt off the window seat and followed her father toward the kitchen.

  “Between you and me, your grandfather wasn’t so wild about his ‘hippie son-in-law’ when your mom and I first got together.” Her dad opened the refrigerator and reached for a small blue Tupperware container of sprouts and some pita bread.

  “What happened?” Julianne asked eagerly.

  “Nothing, really. These things take time. All you can do is try to listen closely and follow what your heart is telling you. Can you pass me the hummus, sweetie?” Julianne ducked down, plucked the container of hummus from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and tossed it out to her father. “You’re a good egg, Julianne Kahn, and I’m proud of you always.” Dad held his arms out for a hug, and Julianne curled up against his broad chest and let herself be held. She was beyond happy.

  Just then, Julianne and Dad heard the quiet click of heels coming in from the hallway, and Chloe walked into the kitchen. Her hazel eyes were cast toward the floor.

  Julianne looked up, the warmth and security of her father’s hug draining out of her as cold damp fear about being in the same room with Chloe trickled in. She swallowed hard and tried to brace herself for Chloe’s anger. But it never came. Julianne had never seen her sister look so sheepish. Knowing that a convincing poker face was not one of Chloe’s many talents, Julianne could only assume she’d been listening. She wanted to laugh. Subtlety was never one of her sister’s strengths.

  Chloe was shaking ever so slightly, and her coffee-colored hair was staticky around the crown of her head—Julianne knew that when Chloe was nervous she ran her fingers through her hair compulsively. It looked like Chloe had been nervous for quite a while.

  “Um, hi.” Chloe’s voice was quiet and tentative. “Welcome home, Dad.”

  Dad smiled benevolently in the direction of his older daughter.

  Chloe cleared her throat and smoothed her wrinkled scrub shirt. “Hey, Jules.”

  “Hey.” Julianne really didn’t know what to say next. A part of her wanted to run over and throw her arms around her sister. Another part of her wanted to hit Chloe in the face with a pie. She also
considered hopping in the sisters’ shared hybrid and not looking back until she’d safely crossed the state border.

  “Um, I was sort of listening out there and I have a few things I’d like to say.” Chloe’s voice pulled Julianne from her imagined escape back into the warm kitchen.

  Julianne found her own voice hiding in the back of her throat and piped up. “Listen, Chloe, I know that you’re angry at me right now. I know that I let you down, and I know that I should have been honest with you, but if you give me a chance to explain—”

  “I don’t want an explanation from you, Julianne.” Chloe’s voice had a note of finality to it that terrified Jules.

  “Chloe, really, just hear me out.” She didn’t want to plead with her sister, but she needed Chloe to understand her—to forgive her—the way Dad had.

  “No, Jules. I don’t need to. I really don’t.” Chloe’s tone left little room for discussion and it stopped Jules dead in her tracks. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Julianne was stunned. After all the silence and the slamming doors and the icy glares, now Chloe was holding out the proverbial olive branch? As much as Julianne had wanted this, hoped for it, daydreamed about it over the last week, she honestly hadn’t expected it to happen. She knew she was staring at her sister as though Chloe had grown an extra head, but she could not find a single word to say in response.

  Chloe continued resolutely. “I’m really sorry for all of the horrible things I said. Well, except the things about the Moores’ house. I totally meant all of those. And it felt really good to say them, too.” A grin flickered across Chloe’s lips, and she and Julianne both let out a nervous laugh. “But about you and about Remi—I’m sorry. I had no right to say any of that, and it was wrong. I was wrong.”

  Julianne watched Chloe’s face as she spoke. Her chin was set in determination. Her eyes were nearly transparent in their intensity, and as she spoke, it was as if Chloe relaxed into the truth of her words. Her shoulders dropped as the tension drained out of them.