Sisters Ch. 03: Persistence

"Well, I think it worked. He's planning to be down here in a couple weeks to sign the papers."

"Donnabella!" Patch shouted, giving her a hug. "You are the best!"

Turning towards the shout, one of Donna's coworkers, Troy, came over. "I've got some ideas for this guy," he said, standing so close that Donna had to crane her neck to see his face. "And you should be a part of them. The two of you splitting a show would be amazing. Great chemistry, really."

"It was just one song," she tried to protest.

"Don't give me that," Troy teased. "I can tell you feel it, just by watching the video. You can't hide that chemistry."

"It's true," Patch added. "You could feel it in the air. It was like... like something sensual."

"I was surprised you didn't go after him," Donna teased Patch.

"Well," he mumbled with a shy half-smile, "let me know if he's interested..."

"And what about off stage?" Troy asked, his shining smile standing out from his dark complexion. "Was there chemistry off stage, too?"

"Don't be silly Troy," She said, trying to sound nonchalant. "There was nothing like that. We had a simple business conversation."

"That's not what I see in his eyes when he looks at you on the stage," Troy insisted. "He looks smitten."

"He looks like someone who knows talent when he sees it. And since that's the business we're in, we should get back to work," Donna said, lightheartedly shooing Troy and Patch away from her work station.

She looked across the aisle at the video from the night before. Well, at least one of the people on the stage was smitten, she knew that for sure.

*******

Do you have plans for Thanksgiving? Donna hadn't heard from Hannah since their very brief chat at the coffee shop a week earlier. She wasn't sure how to talk to her sister, but a text-messaged dinner invitation seemed safe enough.

No. Well, at least she got a response.

Having a few friends over. Wanna come? Still in town?

She got no response for several hours and assumed she wouldn't hear back. But before she left work that day, she received a simple, OK.

Donna smiled.

*******

It was Thanksgiving afternoon. Donna had sent her address and the time, but Hannah hadn't shown. Dinner was just about ready and everyone was helping to get food on the table. A ring of the doorbell made Donna's heart race. Patch was answering the door.

"Hello, hello, hello!" came Patch's distinctive voice from the entryway. Then he shouted back to the group, "Did somebody invite a goddess to dinner?" Donna hurried down the hall and greeted her sister with an awkward hug. Leading her to the table, she said, "Everyone, this is Hannah, my oldest sister..."

"Not the one who just died, I assume," interjected Patch, eliciting winces, groans, and grimaces all around.

She then introduced Patch, Troy, Lana, Fiona, and Steve. "Patch, Troy, and Lana all work with me, and Fiona and Steve are some of the artists we represent," she explained.

As Hannah took off her coat, she handed Donna a bag. "I brought this," she said. Donna opened the bag and looked inside. Before she could even see it, she smelled it. Donna smiled broadly and hugged her sister. "You remembered!" She took the bag into the kitchen, leaving Hannah to explain.

"Uh... we both hate pumpkin. So when we were little, on the night before Thanksgiving we would get up in the middle of the night, throw away the pumpkin pie and make a peanut butter pie instead." As she told the story, Hannah began to smile in contented self-forgetfulness. "No one knew we'd made the switch until they took a bite. After two years in a row, our mother told us it was fine to make the new pie but to stop throwing away the pumpkin pie."

"That. Is. Adorable," said Lana in a thick New Jersey accent. "I wish I had a sister."

Donna returned with the pie on a plate, and everyone sat down to dinner. For Donna, this had been her typical holiday experience for a few years, other than the few times she had flown home for Christmas. For Hannah, however, this was one of the first times she had been in such a large and warm group. She spent most of the time listening, unsure how to interact with people like this.

Hours later, once most of the guests had left, Steve was helping Donna take coffee cups to the kitchen sink. "It's OK, Steve, I got this," Donna assured him. "You don't need to stick around."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking around for something else to do.

"I'm sure. I'll see you Monday, OK? Don't be late."

"I still owe you a dinner, though," Steve reminded her. "Are you free this weekend at all?"

"We can talk Monday," she replied.

Once Steve had found his coat and made his exit, Hannah spoke up. "Sooo... what's going on there?"

"Where?"

"There," she said, nodding towards the door that had just closed behind Steve. "The guy that is obviously hot for you."

"Steve?" Donna asked with a laugh. "No, you're imagining things. I'm not his type."

"Is he gay?"

"No! I mean, I don't know. I don't think so, but..."

"Then you're his type."

"Hannah, you're being ridiculous."

"There's a lot about people I don't understand, Donna, but one thing I am good at is knowing when a man is having a hard time not looking at a woman. There's power in that, power to control him. You have that power over him."

"Hannah, seriously, this is..."

"Alright. Fine. Don't believe me. But you'll see... He wants you bad."

Donna sighed in frustration, carrying a few more dirty plates to the sink. After adding them to the growing pile, she hollered out to Hannah, "So are you living in Franklin?"

"For the moment," Hannah said as Donna came back to the table and sat down with a slice of peanut butter pie. "Still working that out." Hannah reached across the table, took the fork from Donna's hand, and fed herself a bite of the pie. "I haven't decided yet if I'm staying or not, so I'm in a hotel until I do."

"Hannah!" Donna blurted out, covering her mouth to keep from spitting out the pie. Then, once she had swallowed, she restarted. "Hannah! You're living in a hotel?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I travel light. I like my freedom."

"You can stay with me while you decide," Donna said quickly. "I have a spare room with a futon bed. I wouldn't mind, really. I travel a lot, too, so I wouldn't be in your way."

"Thanks, but... I'm fine," Hannah said, sounding sincere.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking turns finishing the pie. Then, just as casually as if discussing the weather, Hannah asked, "So, did Nicholas ever rape you?"

Donna dropped her fork onto the plate with a clang. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and answered softly, "No. Nothing like that. Never."

"Hm," answered Hannah. "Interesting. How old were you when Penny left?"

"I was fifteen, almost sixteen," she answered, holding back tears. "But I left the same month."

"You left, too?" Hannah asked with surprise, leaning forwards and changing her expression from casual to intrigued.

"I got into a boarding school, a special performing arts center. I lived there until I started college. I was only home at Christmas. I toured during the summer." Donna's voice was distant, as if she was reliving some of those memories.

"You and Penny left at the same time? I bet he was pissed!"

"Well, he didn't think it was a good idea. He... he wanted me to choose something more practical. He said that people so rarely made it in music... and you had to have more than talent, you had to have the right look, and I..." Donna started choking up, and she fanned herself with her hand until she calmed down.

"Son of a bitch!" Hannah said softly. "He got inside your head, too, didn't he?"

Donna narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked, crossing the room and picking up a guitar that was leaning on a stand in the corner.

"Did 'Daddy' ever tell you he loved you?" Hannah asked, vocally putting sneer quotes around the word 'daddy.'

Donna leaned back into the couch and thought for a moment, lightly picking out a few notes.

"That's answer enough," Hannah said after a minute of silence. "And let me guess, he had some opinions about your appearance."

"Well, he wasn't mean or anything," Donna said defensively. "He was right. I'm not like you and Penny. I need to be careful what..."

"Bullshit," Hannah snapped. "You're gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. And I'm not the sentimental type who would lie about that."

"But you're so..."

"I'm thin and confident and I carry myself well. You're curvy and sweet and beautiful and warm and a bunch of other things I can never be. You are a dream come true for most guys. But let me guess... no boyfriend?"

"I'm kind of busy with..."

"Not dating much?"

"I'd rather..."

"When's the last time you got laid?"

"Hannah!"

"Virgin?"

"Hannaaah..."

"OK, OK," Hannah said, deferring to Donna's annoyed tone. When she looked back at her sister, she realized Donna was softly crying.

"You don't know me," Donna whispered. "You don't know me at all." Donna's guitar playing had become a full chord progression, a familiar one that Hannah couldn't place.

With the most soothing voice she knew how to use, Hannah replied, "But I know where you came from, and that's at least half the story. For better or worse, Dee, that's half the story."

Donna gave no answer, except to sing a few lines of song, her voice ethereal and mournful.

Freedom... that's just some people talkin'

Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone...

*******

After Hannah had left, Donna was finishing the dishes, having taken time to process all that she'd heard that evening. She looked at the clock - it was late, but not too late. She poured herself one more half-glass of wine, finishing off the bottle Troy had brought to dinner. Emboldened, she took out her phone and typed a message to Steve.

Hey, I realized I should be more hospitable to the new guy in town. I can be free for dinner Saturday. If that's OK, I'll see who else is free, too.

She stared at it for a minute, making sure it was worded just right, then sent it with a nervous intake of breath. She sat there wondering if Hannah was right. She hoped and also feared that she was. Messing things up with Steve, though, would create some professional problems. Patch had gotten away with it once, but that was Patch - the normal rules didn't apply. Just as she started to regret even sending the message, her phone vibrated in her hand.

Saturday's great!

Then a moment later, If you don't mind, I'd prefer just you this time.

Donna closed her eyes and wiggled her feet, equally excited and terrified.

*******

On Friday evening, Hannah drove up to Wes's place, filled with resolve. To her surprise, there was no room in the driveway for her to park. Nevertheless, she parked across the street and walked boldly up to the front door. The dog barked furiously at the sound of the doorbell.

Wes cracked the door open a bit, bent over to hold back the black lab that strained to get out. Craning his neck up, Wes seemed surprised to see her. If Hannah had been able to see it, he also looked uncomfortable.

"I'm ready to talk," she said. "Really talk."

"Not now, Hannah," Wes said, slightly annoyed. It was then that Hannah heard the sounds of people in the house.

"Oh," she said, trying to look past Wes.

"My sister and my cousin and their families are here right now," he explained. "Can we do this... some other time?"

"Tomorrow?" Hannah offered.

"Fine. Tomorrow. But not here," he said. Naming a time and location, he didn't wait for her to leave before shutting the door.

Hannah walked back to her car, questioning for the hundredth time whether this was really worth it. The only reason she persevered at this point was because of the plain yellow envelope now taped to the bathroom mirror in her hotel room. Penny had told her to keep trying. Penny told her not to let the bastard win, and by God she wasn't going to let him win. And she was becoming determined to exorcise his demon from Donna's life, too.

*******