The Hudson Boys

C H A P T E R 1 4

(PICTURE ABOVE OF TATE AND MAYA AS KIDS)

C H A P T E R 1 4

When I got home from school this afternoon, Marcia roped me into helping her sort through the old family photo albums. She claimed it had been years since you looked through the older albums and with the baby due soon she was feeling nostalgic. Unsurprisingly, five kids created a lot of albums to go through.

The first album I open is all photos of Jack and Marcia at their wedding and on their honeymoon but once I opened the second album the baby photos started.

At first you couldn't recognize the little bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. On the photo, Marcia was smiling down at the baby while Jack had a huge grin on his face and noticeably glassy eyes. As I flip further through the book the bundle grows until I can recognize Tate's big blue eyes and the large, gummy grin that adorns his small, round face. He looks so innocent, without a care in the world as he chews on a plastic toy.

Then there is a photo of Tate being held by a young blonde boy with the same bright blue eyes. He looks about five years old, his curly hair falling into his eyes as he smiles down at the sleeping Tate in his arms.

I glanced up at Marcy, who was smiling fondly at the picture before she turned the page with no explanation. I can't help but wonder who the blond boy could be. A cousin maybe?

We continue further through the books, Tate grows up with each picture until the next bundle arrives.

Ryan.

He looks so adorable and I can't stop the internal squeal at the cuteness overload. His face was so chubby, that it looked like he had giant apples in his cheeks and his wide green eyes shone like emeralds.

I continue to flick through the pages, finding lots of photos of Tate holding baby Ryan, family photos of Jack and Marcia with the two boys, and photos of Tate and Ryan playing together.

It makes me wonder, yet again, what had happened to make Tate go so sour, in the photos he looks so happy, so innocent.

Now and again the blond-haired boy reappears, mostly during celebrations such as birthdays or Christmas. I decide that because of this he really must be one of their cousins.

Halfway through the fourth album where the boys look about two or three years old, a third child joins the pictures. A baby girl. But Jack and Marcia don't have any girls?

"Do you recognize her?" Marcia asks, smiling at me cheekily.

I peer at the photo again. She looks about two years old, the same age as Ryan. Her short hair is pulled back in tufty brown pigtails and she had a big grin on her face as both Ryan and Tate sat beside her in a small sand pit.

It's not until I look at the photo on the next page that I realize who they are. The same little girl with the brown pigtails and brown eyes is being held lopsidedly by an older girl. 

Marcia sees my focus shift across the page but doesn't comment as I stare intently at the other picture. The older girl looks almost two years older than the toddler, making her a year older than Tate and four years old at the time the photo was taken. But it isn't her age, or her holding the other girl that made me recognize her. It is the way her wavy blonde hair, falls in loose ringlets around her smooth face. It is her bright blue eyes, filled with joy and innocence. My mother's eyes. And her smile. The same smile that had comforted me over the years. Whenever I was down, she was there to pick me up again, because that's what big sisters were for. Then I realize I've seen this photo before, hanging on the wall in the kitchen of our apartment, sun faded and pride of place where Mom cooked pancake breakfasts and birthday cakes.

"It's Emmy," I mumble, tears stinging my eyes. "So, that's me?" I point toward the younger girl girl squirming in her older sisters arms.

"Yes, it is." Marcia smiles at me wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I lean into her side. "You were two years old the first time you came to visit us and from that day on, you, Ryan and Tate were inseparable. The Three Musketeers. Emmy however, didn't enjoy getting dirty and preferred to stay inside with the coloring books." It doesn't surprise me, Emmy had always been more of a girly girl.

She turns a couple of pages until she finds the photo she is looking for. It is of the three of us. I am sitting in the middle with my small arms crossed against my chest. Ryan and Tate are standing on either side of me, their arms around my shoulders. We are all smiling mischievously, and covered head to toe in mud. There's another photo of myself and Ryan sitting on the swing set with Tate going down the slide. Ryan and I sitting at the kitchen table drawing pictures with large crayons. Ryan and Tate with muddy stripes smeared precisely across their cheeks and myself in a fairy tutu dress, that is more brown than pink, throwing a football around the lawn.

But it's another photo that catches my eye. It is of myself and Tate. I look about three which would make him four at the time. He has his arm wrapped around my neck and is whispering something in my ear. Three-year-old me is laughing, my small hand over my mouth, a huge grin spread across my face.

If this is how we used to be, then what did I do to make him hate me now?

"I don't remember any of this." I whisper. 

Marcia smiles down at me. "You were only little. And you didn't visit after you moved up to New York. We always meant to come up and see you but life got busy. Your Mom and I always wished that you kids couldn't have all grown up together more."

We continued flicking through pages, Marcia reshuffling some photos as we went.

In the last photos I'm in, Ryan and I are about four. I would guess this was the last time we came to Texas. There are photos of Marcia and my Mom sitting in deck chairs laughing, and of us kids running around the lawn, the blonde cousin is there too, as are the one-year-old twins, crawling around behind us. We all look so happy.

Then I reach the back of the book I find another photo that makes my heart stop. It is the last photo of the album and the last one taken with my family in it. It is only of my family.

Mom was standing with a six-year-old Emmy wrapped around her leg. Emmy is smiling and Mom is laughing. Just how I remember them. Always happy, always.

But there is something different about Mum's smile, not the way she is smiling, but who she is smiling at. Standing next to her, with his arm around her waist is my father, and on his shoulders is a four-year-old version of myself. I'm giggling, a massive cheesy grin spread across my face as I hold onto my father's brown hair. We look like a real family. A happy family. I suppose we were until he left and ruined everything.

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A/N.

End of Chapter 14.

What do you think?

The photos?

The Three Musketeers?

What do you think happened to make Tate so sour if they used to be such good friends?

What about the photo with Maya's Dad?

I know it's been ages since I last updated but these next few chapters are really important so I want to get them right. Sorry to inconvenience you but I'm trying. :)

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Meegs.