Variation: A Novel

“No,” Eva whispered, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes bulging as she stared at the screen, where Allie and Everett danced.

“What?” Everett shrugged. “Could have sworn you were the one bitching that Allie never helped you with content creation. Even Anne did her part by texting that video over as soon as the performance ended, and it wasn’t hard to guess your new password, especially when you used Equinox and your birthday.”

My eyebrows shot up. I hadn’t seen that coming.

Eva’s gaze dropped to the floor for a couple of awkward seconds, and then she fled back into the theater as another performance began, bumping into Caroline on the way—who was reading the program, completely unbothered.

Oh shit. My hand flew to the small of Allie’s back as Caroline’s eyes bulged, and I braced for impact.

“What the hell?” Caroline shouted, her gaze jumping between the three of us. “Tell me this is a joke!”

Gavin thew out some jazz hands. “Surprise?”

“No.” She shook her head and crumpled the program in her fists. “No. She can’t.” Her gaze whipped to mine. “Go get her. She can’t.”

“She is,” I said softly. Her panic cut me to the quick.

“We figured if you saw how good she is, you’d relent on your stupid rule,” Gavin said. “And it wasn’t like you were going to give her the option to show you, so here we are.”

“Allie, photographer?” Everett asked, nodding toward the door.

“I need a minute,” she answered, her voice shaky.

He nodded and tossed her phone. She caught it with one hand and juggled the bouquet with the other as Caroline turned on her.

“This is all you, isn’t it?” She shook her program at Allie.

“Hey.” My tone sharpened and I moved slightly, putting Allie just behind my right shoulder. “It wasn’t her. It was me.”

“Actually, it was me first.” Gavin preened. “She trusted me to take her to class. What do you think we were doing on Sunday mornings? Just wait until you see how good she is—Caroline, you’re going to cry. Seriously, I know you hate it and whatever, but it doesn’t matter what you hate if she loves it, does it?”

“You don’t get it.” Caroline shook her head and backed up a couple of steps, fear sliding through her eyes. “None of you get it! Do you think I like making her miserable? Do you think I want to have the same fight over and over?” She pinned a look on Allie. “Do you think I’m such a shitty mother that I would deny her joy because I can’t get past some spoiled rich girls from my childhood?”

“I did,” Gavin stated. “Except the shitty-mom part.”

“Not helping.” I shook my head at him.

“No,” Allie said quietly, worry creasing her forehead as she looked at Caroline. “You’re an excellent mother, Caroline. I just thought you were scared that she wouldn’t be good enough and it would break her heart, and showing you was better than telling you that she is more than good enough.”

“I know we went behind your back,” I added. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry. We just wanted to give her a chance. And Caroline, she’s astounding.”

“You fucking idiots.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she crushed the program in her grip. “I didn’t want her to fall in love with dancing because it would break her heart to stop. Sean and I had to make two promises in writing in order to have her placed with us. The agency called us out of nowhere and said they had a beautiful baby girl and we’d been chosen by the birth parents to adopt her, but we had to sign the biological parents’ conditions if we wanted to move forward.”

“You’ve never told us this.” My stomach careened like it knew we were all about to crash and burn.

“Of course we didn’t,” she snapped. “The document was signed under terms of nondisclosure.”

“What were they?” Allie tensed and stepped forward. “The conditions?”

“Besides secrecy? The first was that she could never do ballet,” Caroline told her, blinking back tears.

“Not possible.” Allie shook her head. “That’s simply not possible.” She looked up at me, and the denial in her eyes hit me straight behind my ribs. “Hudson, she’d never do that.”

“People do irrational things when they’re scared.” I reached for her hand and squeezed. “You don’t know what went through her mind.”

“She wouldn’t.” Allie turned back to Caroline, and my heart stuttered at the horror dawning on my sister’s face. “Lina wouldn’t do that! She loved dancing. She lived and breathed to be on the stage. She’d never limit her own—” Allie pressed her lips between her teeth and her eyes flew wide. Paper crunched in her arms.

“Her own what?” Caroline asked, her voice deceptively soft. “Her own what, Allie?”

Fuck, this had gone so wrong, so very quickly.

“Daughter,” Allie finally said. “Lina wouldn’t do that to her own daughter.”

“Oh my God.” Caroline staggered backward, pinning Gavin, then me, with an accusatory glare before shifting to Allie. “You’re her aunt. How did I miss it? She looks just like the four of you. You’re her aunt . . . and you all knew.” She folded her arms like she needed protection. “From the time she was a baby?”

“No. None of us knew about Juniper or that Lina had placed her with you.” Allie shook her head. “Not until May. Juniper figured it out long before any of us. She thought I was her mother to start with, but it’s Lina.”

“That . . .” Caroline started breathing faster. “That was the second condition. That she not search for her biological family. That the birth parents retain complete anonymity. What did you do?” She charged at Allie.

I stepped in, catching Caroline’s shoulders and dipping my head to look her in the eye. “None of this was Allie’s fault. Juniper sought her out. Juniper took the DNA test. You want to be mad at anyone, then bring it to me or Gavin, but Allie’s been on your side since day one. Remember what I told you at the lake? Truth is different depending on who’s telling it. Give her a chance and see it from her side, because she’s done nothing but look at it from yours.”

Caroline sagged.

“Letting her perform in the Classic for you is on me,” Allie clarified. “I know you wanted a closed adoption, and this is probably your worst nightmare. And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. You’d always hated our family, and we thought you’d ban us from seeing her. We were always going to tell you. We just hoped you’d like me first, that you’d see that we weren’t a threat so we could stay in Juniper’s life. It got so out of control, and I’m truly sorry.”

“I never wanted a closed adoption,” Caroline corrected her, and the music stopped. “It was always a comfort to me knowing that she could legally seek out her records at eighteen, and I would have been happy with an open one in the first place, but I signed—”

“Lina’s dead,” Allie interrupted, “and Everett’s listed as Juniper’s legal father. You’re safe. No one is going to hold you to whatever you signed before the adoption. No one is going to fight you for custody, or visitation, or do anything that risks your family. And none of us care if she dances. We just want to see her happy.”

“Legal father?” Caroline’s jaw slackened and fear flooded her eyes. “Not her biological father?”

“We don’t know who that is,” Allie admitted.

“Oh my God.” Caroline retreated, shaking her head. “If her biological father was never informed of her birth, of the adoption, he can contest it. And if he knows she exists, that I haven’t abided by the promises Sean and I made . . . we’re not safe. He could walk through the doors of the county courthouse and petition to take her from the only home she’s ever known. What have you done?” She leveled a murderous look on each of us.

The three of us fell into a stunned silence, and I tried to swim through the heaviness of my own ignorance. None of us had thought that part through.

“Caroline, I’m so very sorry,” Allie whispered. “Lina told Everett it was a one-night stand, so the chances of him knowing are incredibly small.”

“But not nothing,” Caroline countered. “Otherwise, why would they have demanded we agree to those terms?”

“They had to have been to protect Lina,” Allie said. “No one is looking for Juniper. We’d know, because we’ve been looking for him.”

Another song started, and I immediately recognized it. “Juniper’s onstage.”

Caroline glared us all into the ground as the first tear slipped down her cheek. “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive you. Not any of you.” She swatted at her cheek, then walked into the auditorium.

The three of us followed silently, then lined up against the back wall next to Caroline, who stood with her arms wrapped around her waist, her program clenched in her hand.

“We fucked up,” Allie whispered to me as Juniper danced.

“On every level possible.” I watched my niece with a sad smile, realizing what this performance had potentially cost her—cost all of us. But damn, did she look happy up there. Happy and graceful and utterly charming.

Caroline watched in awe, and Allie’s head bobbed with the rhythm, her face strained with worry like she was the one up there. She flashed a smile when Juniper nailed a move, then smiled wider in encouragement when she didn’t.

“You can definitely tell she’s a Rousseau,” Gavin whispered from Allie’s other side.

“Yeah, she is,” I whispered in reply.

“She’s a Rousseau.” Allie’s face fell, and her focus shifted to the audience. Her gaze jumped from person to person with a speed that bordered on panic by the time the music ended.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Allie as we all clapped for Juniper.

“Professional ballet is a very small world,” she whispered. “And there are at least twenty scouts in the audience. Boston.” Her eyes shifted right, then left. “Houston. Atlanta. San Francisco.” Color drained from her face.

“She’s beautiful,” Caroline said with a watery smile, alternating between clapping and batting at tears. “So very lovely. And good.” She looked around me to Allie. “She’s good, isn’t she? Or am I just her mom? Am I biased?”

“She’s extraordinary.” Allie’s smile shook. “And if you let her dance, you’ll never have to worry about paying for any of it. We’ll help take care of her if you let us.” Caroline’s smile slipped, and Allie walked in front of me to take her hand. “Juniper isn’t going anywhere, I promise. I’ll fix this.” She let her go and retreated.

“Allie?” I reached for her hand but she drew it back. “Don’t you want to see Juniper?”

“I do, but it’s more important that she sees Caroline. I have to go. I think I know how to fix this.” She clutched her phone and flowers, and backed away. “Trust me to fix this, Hudson.”

I had no idea what the fuck I was agreeing to, but the plea in her eyes had me nodding.

“Thank you.” She turned and ran.