I just wanted to thank you guys for all the feedback. I really didn't expect it. 
Chapter 1
Liz
“I promise you, Liz, if you straighten that tablecloth one more time I’m going to stab you with this salad fork.” I stop peeling sweet potatoes long enough to level Maria with a withering glare. She’s unruffled, as usual, and merely lifts her shoulders in an unrepentant shrug. “Why do you persist in taking so much upon yourself at once, Lizzie?” she demands as she leans herself forward on the tabletop to regard me with an anxious look, “I’m surprised Max hasn’t said to you about it already. You’re going to make yourself sick with this pace.”
Max has said something. Time and time again, but I don’t tell Maria that. No need to add further fuel to her fire. With an exasperated sigh, I return to my frantic task. “Maria, really,” I reply dismissively, “I have it all under control, okay. If you’re really concerned about me, grab the potato peeler and help me with these yams. I’ve got two pies and a casserole to bake before Thursday.”
She does as I ask, but not without a great deal of muttering complaints. But I’m not naïve enough to believe she’s given up on hounding me. That is so NOT Maria. “Lizzie, let’s examine the facts, shall we?” she opens.
“Let’s not,” I counter brusquely, but I well know no one can shut Maria DeLuca up once she’s worked herself up this way.
“You just started a new job at the hospital not six months ago,” Maria states, stabbing the peeler in my general direction, “You’re technically still a newlywed and you’re also a new mother to an adorable, but quite precocious fifteen month old. Your eldest is away at college, which I know is depressing you more than you’ve let on because you were hoping she’d come back to Roswell and attend the University of New Mexico. And, finally, this whole situation with David is steadily getting out of hand.” She thwacks the peeler onto the countertop. “There. Have I covered everything?”
It makes no difference that I know, on some subconscious level, that she’s right because I’m too irritated over the fact I’ve been lectured to. I get that enough from Max. He’s always worrying about whether I’m eating enough or resting enough or if I’m spreading myself too thin. I know his hovering is born out of concern and love but, honestly, he’s beginning to make me feel a little suffocated. I can’t seem to make him understand that keeping busy is the only way I’m managing to keep myself together.
Seventeen months ago when Max and I were first married all I had seen ahead of me was blue skies and rainbows. I was so happy, for the first time in a long while that I don’t think I considered anything realistically at that point. Max and I had been on this blissful, newlywed high, so lost in each other that nothing else had even mattered beyond our tiny world. It hadn’t been until after Max and I returned from our honeymoon in Barbados two weeks later that the real test began. I hadn’t been back an entire day before the custody issue with David resurfaced.
The entire idea was ridiculous and, of course, I told him that. At the time Claudia was seventeen and in her senior year of high school. Legally, she’d be an adult in only a few months time. It hadn’t made any sense to me that David would want to rehash the entire custody battle when Claudia was
living with him at the time. But his reasoning became abundantly clear very soon after. Apparently, David had wanted Claudia to have nothing to do with the alien abyss and since I had married into it he had thought it best that my daughter stay away from me as well. And that’s when the real fighting began….not just with David, but with Max as well.
Those first few months after Claudia had gone to stay with him it had taken everything short of an act of Congress to get David to agree to let her visit Roswell even for a few days. It didn’t matter when her school break fell or how easy I made the transition David always had an excuse for why he thought she shouldn’t come. Eventually, I had grown tired of fighting him and opted just to visit her in Sacramento instead. Unfortunately, we learned rather quickly that Max wasn’t welcome in David’s home. Our first visit there had been utterly explosive and, in the end, we were compelled to meet Claudia elsewhere when we visited just to avoid a scene.
The situation made Claudia uncomfortable, I could tell, and I worried constantly over how the stress might affect her therapy. She had made such progress in the last year, but she still had her vulnerable spots. And even though she’s been off the anti-depressants for nearly five months now I continue to be sensitive about her mental state. That is the very reason I didn’t fight David about his highhandedness or even attempt to yank Claudia out of school and take her back to Roswell with me. I was so frightened that she might have a relapse I felt paralyzed against making any sort of stand. I also had to contend with an infant around the time all the drama began unfolding as well and felt as if I were being pulled in one hundred different directions.
On the one hand, I can understand David’s viewpoint and his desire that Claudia keep as far from the alien madness as possible. I had wanted that very same thing once myself. In David’s mind, Zan is completely responsible for the breakdown Claudia had a year earlier. He hasn’t let himself accept the fact that, if anyone was responsible for screwing Claudia up emotionally, it is the two of us. Zan has never done anything but love our daughter even when she didn’t deserve it, but David is hearing none of that. Which is why I know all hell would break loose if he were to learn that, not only is Zan attending school there in Sacramento with Claudia, but the two of them are actually seeing each other as well and have been for over a year. And though I’m happy my daughter has finally found someone to love her the way Max loves me I’d be lying if I said that part of me isn’t disheartened to know it’s Zan.
Really I have nothing against my stepson anymore. We crossed that bridge a long time ago and, under ideal circumstances, I would have gift wrapped Zan and given him to Claudia. But the situation isn’t ideal. Zan is an alien and my stepson, but worse still, my ex-husband happens to hate him thoroughly. Factor in also that David knows his most coveted secret and the potential for disaster is endless. And though David has never once threatened me with going public the possibility is always there, hanging over my head. That fact has actually been the source of my recent problems with Max.
It’s not that Max and I are on the brink of divorce or anything. The two of us waited far too long and loved way too hard to give up on our marriage that easily. But we are definitely being tested. We do fight. And a lot lately, too. From little things about the color scheme in the living room to monumental things about how we should raise our son Justin, who is coincidently the perfect combination of his older brother and sister, Max and I are continually at odds.
At the crux of our fights is always the issue with David. Max is breaking under the strain and I don’t blame him. David has been quite volatile lately and he carries a secret that could potentially destroy us all. Max has never been too comfortable with that knowledge and, with recent developments, has been made all the more antsy because of it. I know that the situation must truly have Max agitated because lately he’s even been considering warping David for our safety.
But I can’t let him do that. I won’t manipulate David that way. And not because we were once married or even because we share a child but because I don’t want to be like
her. I can’t forget how Tess Harding used her mindwarping abilities to bend Max to her will and the havoc that was wreaked because of it. I can’t forget that Alex
died because of it. And I can’t find justification in inflicting that same thing on David simply because he’s scared.
Though my sense of morality is probably misplaced in this instance, I can’t knowingly condone such a thing after witnessing firsthand the type of damage that can be done. Max and I fight about this constantly and we’re getting nowhere. I know he believes the end justifies the means in this case, but I simply can’t reconcile my conscience with doing such a thing. When I returned to work I didn’t do so out of some desire to reenter the workforce. I would have much rather stayed at home with Justin and watched him grow up. Instead, my decision was prompted out of the desire to escape the house and the incessant bickering with Max.
“Maria,” I say now and in my most woeful tone, “Please, if you care about me at all…just drop it. I really not up for yet another serious conversation. It’s barely noon.”
“Another?” Maria queries, her brows snapping together. I actually groan aloud, but this time I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. I walked right into that one. “What do you mean another?” She lowers her voice to a bare whisper. “Have you and Max been fighting again, Liz?”
I shrug, presenting a veneer of indifference I don’t feel. Really, I’m actually quite close to tears at this point. “What else is new?” I say, only to have to set aside my potato peeler when a tear actually slips down my cheek. Almost mutinously, I swipe it away. “We keep going around and around in circles about this David thing and I…” My voice chokes off at this point and I have to swallow several times before I can continue. “It’s starting to bleed over into other things as well and now we fight about practically everything. I can’t even remember the last time we just sat down and talked to each other without yelling.”
“Maybe you should consider Max’s suggestion,” Maria advises tentatively, “You know…about the mindwarping.”
I snap my wounded gaze to her face in disbelief. “Maria, you’re not serious.”
“Lizzie, normally I’d say no,” she says gruffly, “You know how I feel about all that alien mambo jumbo. I’d rather leave it. But David is really a loose cannon right now. I know he says he’ll never tell the secret for Claudia’s sake, but it’s clear he’s not thinking straight. You can’t leave something like this to chance.”
“If he was going to tell he would have done so by now,” I reason dully, “We can’t go tinkering around in his head based on what he
might do. Besides I don’t like the idea of warping him.”
“It doesn’t make you like Tess,” Maria says, easily discerning what I left unspoken, “She manipulated for her own selfish purposes.”
“Aren’t I considering the same thing?” I ask sadly.
“You’d be protecting your family,” Maria clarifies, “As you’re entitled, no
obligated to do.”
“There has to be another way.”
“Liz, maybe you don’t have a choice anymore,” Maria points out sagely.
“There’s always a choice,” I counter stubbornly, grabbing back up my peeler and returning to my potatoes. “That’s why this dinner has to go as smoothly as possible. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong, Maria.”
My agitation at this point must be glaringly evident because Maria finally takes up her own peeler and puts forth some serious effort to help me. “I still don’t see what inviting David to Thanksgiving dinner is supposed to accomplish,” she mutters when she gets up from the counter to scrape the yam shavings into the trash. When she faces me again her green eyes are clouded over with worry. “I think you’re setting yourself up for a big fall, Lizzie.”
“Now you sound just like Max,” I sigh in weary disgust.
“I happen to agree with him this time,” Maria says, “David has been a complete asshole to you and Max for the better part of a year now. Max can’t even set foot on his doorstep without David shitting a brick, for crying out loud! And now you’re asking Max to stomach having the man at his dinner table during a time that should be reserved for family only?” She emits a disbelieving snort. “God, Liz! Even
I think that’s crossing the line.”
“Maria,” I begin calmly, “This is David’s opportunity to see firsthand that we’re just a normal family and that…that Claudia’s world isn’t going to be blown apart because her stepfather and boyfriend are aliens.”
“Does that mean he knows about Zan and Claude then?” Maria demands skeptically.
My gaze skitters away guiltily. “Not exactly,” I confess meekly.
Maria zeroes in on those two, insignificant words. “Not exactly?” she parrots, “And what are you going to say when he sees Zan and Claudia all kissy face at the dinner table? Chalk it all up to sibling affection?”
“I would think they both would have more discretion than that, Maria,” I reply dryly.
“So then you expect them to hide it?” she charges. I say nothing, but I don’t need to. Maria’s already arrived at her own conclusion. She snorts for a second time. “Yeah, I can see that going over really well with Zan and Claude,” she remarks sardonically.
“Claudia’s keeping her relationship with Zan a secret from David anyway,” I reason blandly, “I wouldn’t be asking her to do anything she isn’t already doing.”
Maria resumes her perch across from me, her expression caught somewhere between sympathy and skepticism. “Liz, I get what you’re trying to do here, but…” she sighs, “Claude’s visits home are the only times when she can be completely real about her feelings for Zan and feel like she’s part of a happy family. It’s not fair that she should be on guard her entire holiday.”
“It’s not like I had much choice,” I reply raggedly, “I doubt David would have been as accommodating about allowing her to visit if I hadn’t invited him, too. He would have put up a stink about it otherwise. As it was, just convincing him to agree to dinner was a small feat in itself. I’m just so tired of fighting with him about this, Maria.” I wearily drop my head down into my hands. “I’m working with the best I’ve got right now.”
I hear her circle around the table and a moment later she’s pressing my shoulders in a tender hug. “I know you are, sweetie,” she croons gently, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m jumping all over you. Lord knows I’m not in a position to give you advice on life decisions right now.”
I bite back an ironic smile over her comment. By now it’s widely known among our family and friends that Maria and Michael are off again and for the same reason as before. Evidently, Maria’s career pursuits had continued to create a wedge between them despite their obvious love for one another. Everything had come to a head about two months earlier when Michael worked up the courage to ask Maria to marry him. He’d gone the full distance with the ring, romantic setting and bended knee. In the end, Maria had turned him down. The two have barely been on speaking terms since. That fact saddens me, especially when I see how lost and miserable Maria is without him.
“You know Michael will be at dinner, too,” I tell her, patting her hand, which is draped loosely around my shoulder, “Are you sure you can handle that?”
Maria pulls away and shrugs, much the way I did earlier when she asked about Max and me. But like me I know Maria isn’t as unaffected as she wants to seem. “What do I care what Michael does?” she says, “He’s got his own life now and I have mine.”
“He really loves you, Maria,” I insist gently, “You broke his heart when you turned down his proposal. Surely, you know that.”
Maria whirls on me then, eyes flashing. “Well, I guess he shouldn’t have given me an ultimatum then,” she spits irately, “It should have
never come down to a choice between my career and him, Liz.”
“But you chose your career, Maria,” I point out stridently, “How do you think that made him feel, that showbiz meant more to you than he did?”
Pink glossed lips twist into a bitter smirk as she regards me. “Since when did you become a champion for Michael Guerin, Liz?” she demands in irritation.
“Since I’ve had to watch him mope around for the last two months while you’ve been away on tour,” I say in reply. She’s evidently unmoved by my argument for all she does is stare me down. “At least talk to him, Maria,” I cajole, “It’s the holidays…”
“No,” she replies tightly, “Michael and I said all we had to say to each other the last time we spoke and he called me a self-centered bitch for wanting something more than Roswell fucking New Mexico. No, Liz…this time Michael and I are truly done. I don’t care what he does anymore.” By this point I know I must look stricken by her vehemence because when she looks at me her expression abruptly loses its hard edge and becomes sheepish. She even laughs a little. “Look at us,” she mutters self-deprecatingly, “Tell me what is it about these Czechoslovakians that turn our lives upside down, Liz?”
“I wish I knew, Maria,” I reply with a solemn little chuckle, “I really wish I knew.”
Great.