Storms 01 - Family Storms

helping me choose tonight? Wasn’t this a more important dinner? Perhaps she wanted me to prove that I could make the right choice without her.
    A full ten minutes had gone by, and I still hadn’t decided. Mama would surely laugh at my panic attack, especially over something to wear, I thought, and finally reached out and took a plain-looking dark blue skirt and its matching short-sleeved V-neck blouse. I was surprised at how well the blouse fit me. Earlier, I had brushed and pinned back my hair with one of Alena’s clips. I hesitated to take any more of her things. There was a beautiful gold watch, bracelets and earrings and rings, but I touched none of it.
    Mrs. Duval looked pleased with my choices when she returned. “Ready?”
    “Yes,” I said, and she wheeled me out to the elevator.
    “Mrs. Caro has made an Irish dish that Mr. March favors. It’s called Dublin Lawyer. It’s made with lobster. Have you eaten lobster?”
    “Once,” I said.
    “Once? Well, you’re in for a delightful surprise.”
    The elevator doors opened. My heart felt as if it was shrinking in my chest as Mrs. Duval wheeled me toward the formal dining room. When we entered, I saw that they were all there and seated. Kiera wore a yellow keyhole-bust cap-sleeved top and a black skirt. I had seen other teenage girls wearing something like it lately and had wanted one for myself. She looked as if she had been born in hers; it fit her that well. As we drew closer to the long, dark wood table, I saw that her skirt was barely below her knees. She wore the most beautiful turquoise necklace I had ever seen and looked as glamorous as any young movie or television star.
    How plain I look in comparison,
I thought, but then again, I never imagined ever competing with her, especially for her father’s attention. I couldn’t help but wonder if Alena had felt the same way. Two daughters not all that many years apart must have been vying for their father’s favor constantly. Once Alena became seriously ill, that competition had surely ended with Mr. March doting on Alena. I remembered reading a story about two sisters in which one did become ill and the other, jealous of the attention she received, pretended to be ill herself.
    Being an only child, I often wondered what it would be like to have a sister or a brother and to share my mother’s love.How could any mother have enough? It was clear to me that Mrs. March favored Alena, and Kiera perhaps still couldn’t forgive her, even now, even with her sister dead and buried. Was that why she was afraid of my being there so much? I knew I wasn’t any weight on her conscience, as Mrs. March had hoped I’d be. I wasn’t sure she even had a conscience.
    My gaze shifted to Mr. March, who sat at the head of the table with his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together, and I noticed his striking gold pinkie ring with a lapis, which I would find out later was his birthstone. He wore a dark blue velvet sports jacket and a black shirt opened at the collar. There was a gold chain around his neck with whatever was on it hidden under his shirt.
    His light brown hair looked closer to blond. It was beautifully styled, with a slight wave in front. Against the color of his hair and his tanned face, his dark blue eyes were more prominent. They nearly matched his lapis ring. I could see that Kiera inherited most of her good looks from him, because the features of his face, his perfectly shaped nose and strong mouth, seemed as sculptured as hers were. He looked athletic, and later, when he stood, I’d see that he was a good four inches taller than Mrs. March.
    He sat back when Mrs. March rose to take me from Mrs. Duval.
    “Here she is,” Mrs. March said. She put me to the right of Mr. March. Kiera sat across from him, and Mrs. March sat on his left. “Sasha, this is my husband, Donald.”
    “Hello,” I said, or at least I thought I did. My voice seemed trapped inside my trembling body. I saw that Kiera had a look of disgust on her face.
    Donald March sat back, still studying me. “How’s your leg doing?” he asked as a greeting.
    “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
    “Ugh,” Kiera said. “Couldn’t she put a shoe on that foot?”
    Mrs. March pushed me closer to the table. My broken leg just slipped under it so she wouldn’t have to look at my foot. She glared at Kiera and took her seat across from me.
    “You’re putting her in Alena’s place, you know,” Kiera said.
    Mr. March raised his