The Road She Left Behind

by Nolfi, Christine

  “That was the best course.”

  “Did you tell her father? Jack couldn’t have been pleased.”

  “I didn’t tell him. We ran into him a few weeks after we began dating.”

  “Did he ever come over to the house?”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah, a few days after we ran into him. You were out with friends for dinner. I didn’t tell you when you got home—didn’t make sense to upset you.”

  “How did he find out about you and Darcy? Seriously, Michael. Jack’s medical practice was in the Falls, and everyone knew Darcy was his daughter. Please tell me you weren’t foolish enough to walk around Chagrin Falls holding hands.”

  The remark irritated him. “Of course not,” he said. “During daylight hours, we steered clear of the Falls. Darcy worried about her parents finding out. We started dating just a few months after her sister had Emerson. Not the best timing.”

  “I would imagine life on the Goodridge estate was awfully tense. An unexpected pregnancy, and Elizabeth dropping out of college. I’m sure it was a stressful time for the entire family.”

  “And you’d been on Rosalind’s enemy list for a decade by then.”

  Nella frowned. “Darcy was afraid of rocking the boat?” she asked.

  On impulse, Michael reached for the vodka. He took a swig, flinching as the alcohol burned his throat. Rehashing their short romance was an unwelcome task. He’d never shaken the suspicion that by chasing after Darcy he’d added to her troubles.

  After a long pause, he said, “More than anything, Darcy worried about giving her mother another reason to come down on her. Rosalind already blamed her for Elizabeth’s pregnancy, which was crazy. Darcy took her kid sister to a frat party—she didn’t have anything to do with Elizabeth deciding to have a one-night stand.”

  “Rosalind never required much reason to come down hard on Darcy.”

  He’d always wondered why. “You were close with Rosalind when we were kids. Did they ever get along?”

  “It’s not that simple. It’s more accurate to say that Rosalind wasn’t prepared for motherhood. By the time she met Jack, she’d already built a successful law practice and was vying for a judgeship. He’d opened his practice in Chagrin Falls and didn’t seem in a hurry to start a family. Darcy was an accident.” When his brows lifted, Nella shook her head with bemusement. “Were you under the impression only teenagers have unplanned pregnancies? Rosalind took birth control pills for too many years. Her gynecologist had recently taken her off them. I have no idea what protection she was using. Obviously, it wasn’t foolproof.”

  An unwanted pregnancy and a professional couple too focused on getting ahead. At least Elizabeth had wanted Emerson. Michael recalled how often Darcy, when they’d dated, had mentioned her sister’s affection for her newborn son. All children deserved to be cherished, and Darcy was so incredibly special.

  “Rosalind didn’t want Darcy?” he asked with heat.

  “You know how precise she is. She didn’t want her schedule altered without her conscious permission. It didn’t help that Darcy was a colicky baby, up every hour. I would’ve helped Rosalind through the transition if I’d had more time. You were only a year old.”

  “So Latrice stepped up to the plate.”

  “Gladly. She adores Darcy. She felt the same way about Elizabeth.”

  In silent agreement, Michael nodded. During his first years of friendship with Darcy, Latrice always hovered in the background, a loving presence. Baking cookies for them to take on their adventures in the forest, teaching them how to play croquet in the backyard. The rest of the time they were at Michael’s house, learning to play the board games his mother bought for them.

  “Everything was different with Elizabeth,” his mother was saying. “A perfect baby, never fussy . . . I’m sure it helped that she resembled Rosalind.”

  “Darcy is the female version of Dr. Jack. When Emerson grows up, he’ll look just like his grandfather.”

  “He will,” Nella agreed. She studied him with misgivings. “When Jack came over to the house . . . what did you discuss?”

  “He wanted me to stop seeing Darcy. I refused.”

  “How did he find out?”

  “We ran into him at a restaurant in Beachwood. It was fairly late—ten at night, I guess. He wasn’t with Rosalind.”

  “Who was he with?”

  Not knowing had always bothered Michael for reasons he couldn’t identify. Dr. Jack Goodridge had been a gregarious man, well liked. There were any number of professional associates or friends he could’ve been dining with that night.

  “I’m not sure. Darcy was pretty upset when he saw us, and we left in a hurry.” Dropping the subject, he studied his mother for a long moment. At last, he asked, “What did Rosalind say to you this afternoon? I’m not prying. I’d just like a sense of what I’m dealing with before I press my case to see Emerson.”

  “She won’t let you see him. She made that much clear.”

  A challenge. He smiled grimly. He got to his feet.

  Game on.

  He reached out a hand, which his mother readily grasped. “This is only round one,” he said, steering her to her feet. “If Rosalind won’t return my calls, it’s time for the direct approach.”

  His mother eyed him with dismay. “I know that look. Michael, what are you planning?”

  He scooped up the vodka and the plastic cup. “To pay her a visit,” he said, determined not to let Emerson down. “First thing tomorrow.”

  Stars twinkled across the inky black sky.

  Darcy came down the slate steps leading from her mother’s patio. With the onset of night, the grass unfurled toward the forest in a sea of charcoal gray. She tried to catch a glimpse of Samson. The moon was still low on the horizon, making it difficult to see in the murky darkness. Turning on the porch lights was the obvious solution—one she quickly dismissed. If Samson had wanted them on, he would’ve taken care of it himself when he slipped outside.

  It took a full minute to locate him, seated on the grass. Given Rosalind’s behavior at dinner, an air of unease surrounded him.

  After Latrice set the dining room table, Rosalind had spent the dinner hour submitting them to snappish comments and chilly silences. Her argument with Nella over the fence—a conversation Darcy had nervously watched from a second-floor window—continued to simmer in Rosalind’s expression as she took her place at the head of the table. The mood went downhill from there.

  When she wasn’t making Darcy or Samson uncomfortable with caustic remarks, she traded subtle barbs with her grandson. Emerson spent the entire meal getting under her skin. An unnecessary ploy, in Darcy’s estimation. The topic of him visiting next door never came up. Yet there was no missing the subtext of the brittle conversation between the angry boy and his unyielding grandmother. Emerson wanted the visits to resume. Rosalind was having none of it.

  While they argued in a roundabout way, Samson pushed bits of chicken marsala around his plate. After days of witnessing Rosalind’s dismissive treatment of Darcy, he appeared terrified of becoming the judge’s next target. Latrice, taking pity on him and Emerson as well, reappeared the minute dinner was finished. She asked if they would help clear the table. At the suggestion, Emerson pushed his chair back, grabbed the glasses, and marched off. Samson, filling his arms with dishes, hurried after him.

  In the darkness, Samson pulled his knees up to his chest. Staring intently at the heavens, he didn’t hear Darcy’s approach.

  “Hey,” she murmured, pausing beside him. She glanced up at the star field glistening above. “Found it yet?”

  “My North Star?” He rested his chin on his knees. “Not yet.”

  “Let me know if you see mine up there.”

  “You know I will.”

  The tension at dinner had left Darcy’s muscles stiff with anxiety. Rolling her shoulders, she glided her attention across the sky. There was nothing more soothing than the natural world, and she breathed in deep breaths.

&n
bsp; “Are you okay?” She sat down beside him.

  “Not really.”

  “If I’d known my mother would be such a pill, I would’ve suggested we drive into Chagrin Falls for dinner. It would’ve been sad leaving Emerson alone to deal with her, but he knows how to hold his own.”

  “I bet he does. I don’t think he’s even scared of her.”

  “I’m sure he is, sometimes. But he’s been dealing with her for a long time. You haven’t. It wasn’t fair to submit you to her bad behavior.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Considering, Samson lifted his chin from his knees. “I just don’t understand. Your family is rich. You’ve got everything you could ever want. Nice clothes, nice cars, and a house big enough to keep a whole bunch of families safe and warm. You Goodridges have everything. I thought people like you were the lucky ones—happy all the time.”

  “The things you own don’t bring happiness. In fact, owning too much stuff can get in the way. It becomes a wall between you and the people you’re supposed to love. You spend your life stacking up more possessions and more professional success. For some people, those ambitions become the central focus of their lives. The only focus.” It occurred to Darcy that she’d never believed her parents loved each other. Not with the gentle, unswerving devotion that should grow out of marriage vows. “I’m sure that’s what happened to my parents,” she added. “They put their energies into building their respective careers. Even their social lives were tied up with making the right friends, the right connections.”

  “I feel sorry for you. My childhood was bad—all the moving around from one foster home to the next. Your childhood was lousy too.”

  The sympathy in his voice pricked her eyes with tears. “Samson, you had it worse. No kid should grow up in foster care. At least I had my sister to lean on.” Before she lost the nerve, Darcy slung her arm across his shoulders. She planted a kiss on his forehead. When his bashful gaze met hers, she let him go, adding, “You know, you’re the baby brother I never had. I hope you’ll always think of me as family . . . because that’s how I feel about you.”

  Samson grinned, but his eyes watered. Too much emotion didn’t sit well with the average teenager, and he lifted his shoulders with feigned nonchalance. “You’re okay,” he said.

  “Just okay? C’mon. I’m the big sister you always wanted. Should I start nagging you about signing up for college courses in the fall? Find something else to nag you about?”

  “Save the big-sister routine, okay? I’m not in the mood right now.”

  “Got it.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he asked, “Was your mama always mean?”

  “Not to Elizabeth.”

  “Your daddy? He was mean too?”

  “Mostly he just wasn’t here. Working late, golfing at the club—my parents were into the country club life in a big way. I guess I assumed most kids were raised by the help. I’m glad Latrice was there for us.”

  “I don’t know what’s more pathetic—you being raised like an orphan when your parents could’ve loved you, or me being an orphan and believing real families did nothing but love each other.”

  “Don’t use my family as a measuring stick. The Goodridges have turned dysfunction into a high art form. I’m not sure we even knew each other.” The admission weighed heavily on her. “I assumed I knew my sister better than anyone. And I didn’t. Just today, Latrice told me a secret about Elizabeth I never would’ve guessed.”

  “What kind of secret?”

  Sharing details of Elizabeth’s sex life was taboo. “Put it this way,” Darcy said. “She wasn’t the angel I’d presumed.”

  “You thought your sister was perfect?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Disbelief glinted in his eyes. “How are you supposed to love someone if they’re perfect? Darcy, you’ve got to stop taking so many stupid pills. Don’t you know we’re all a mess? Dealing with our nasty faults, getting stuck on the bad stuff like jealousy and anger. You love someone in spite of their badness. It’s the only way to help them do better.”

  His belief in the healing power of love was inspiring, if too optimistic. Love wasn’t a magic potion. In families like hers, love was in depressingly short supply. Look at how she’d put her late sister on a pedestal. She’d missed out on knowing the real Elizabeth—she’d missed out on deepening the only relationship in her family she’d relied upon. It wasn’t like there was much evidence that Rosalind and Jack Goodridge had genuinely loved either of their daughters. They’d cared about their careers and their active social life. The children they brought into the world were an afterthought.

  At least Darcy had always been secure in Elizabeth’s love—and Latrice’s.

  “If you’d known my sister, you would’ve thought she was close to perfect,” she said. “Elizabeth was kind, with a generous heart—like you.” Playfully, she bounced her shoulder against his. “And I don’t take stupid pills.”

  “Yes, you do. Remember how nervous you were about coming to see Emerson? You thought he wouldn’t take to you.”

  “He didn’t have any reason to like me. His absentee Aunt Darcy. I shouldn’t have waited until he was eight years old to become part of his life.” She nearly mentioned the promise she’d made to Elizabeth, a promise broken when Emerson was just a baby. Guilt kept the words bound inside her.

  “He’s not all grown up. There’s time to make up those lost years.” Samson plucked a blade of grass, thinking. After a moment, he said, “Lots of your habits are dumb. Like moving from city to city. Whatever made you think roaming around was a good idea? Like a plant trying to grow with its roots torn off. We all need to plant ourselves somewhere good. Of course, there’s nothing dumber than the way you leave half of your sandwich on your plate. Where I come from, you don’t waste food.” He bumped his shoulder against hers, his expression growing smug. “It took some pondering, but I’ve figured out why you do it. When you and Elizabeth were growing up, you shared everything, including your sandwiches.”

  “We did.”

  Satisfied with his powers of deduction, he stretched his legs out. He let the silence wind out as they scanned the night sky. At length, he cast her a quick glance.

  “How did Elizabeth and your father die? I know it’s hard to talk about. I’d ask Latrice, but her mouth starts quivering every time your sister’s name comes up.”

  Darcy trailed her fingers through the grass. There was no simple way to skip the full, brutal details and give a basic accounting. She’d brought Samson all the way from South Carolina to the Arctic freeze of her mother’s house. Submitting the good-natured youth to all the complications of her very broken family was hard on him. He deserved a basic explanation.

  Near the forest, a swarm of fireflies sparked dots of light across the darkness. They looked like Fourth of July sparklers waved by unseen hands.

  Without preamble, she began to explain. “I had an argument with my father and stormed out of the house. I ended up at Seasons Tavern—it’s just a few miles from here. I was upset, drinking too much.”

  “Why were you arguing with your dad?”

  “Samson, which part do you want to hear? The basics of the accident, or why my father wanted me to break up with Michael?”

  The remark dropped out unchecked. Samson’s eyes rounded.

  “You were dating the guy next door?” When she heaved a sigh, he laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Michael’s your nephew’s personal hero. A lonely kid like Emerson can get territorial. What if he doesn’t like the idea of his aunt dating Mr. Superhero?”

  “Oh please. I wasn’t much older than you when I dated Mr. Superhero. Ancient history.”

  “So you fell for the guy?”

  “We weren’t in love, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  It occurred to her that she wasn’t sure of the truth. Grief over the deaths of Elizabeth and her father had blotted out everything else. Whatever she’d felt for Michael lay buried beneath layers of remo
rse.

  “How long did you date?”

  “Just a few months. Being with Michael was a refuge during a stormy year.” She gave a quick summary of their childhood friendship, which came to an abrupt close with the falling out between their mothers. Wrapping up, she added, “When we were kids, Michael was my touchstone. Always steady, loyal. I’m sure he’s a great influence on my nephew.”

  “A boy needs a good role model.” Letting the subject go, Samson tripped his attention across the sky. “Tell me about the accident.”

  “I ended up in the bar because I felt awful. Throwing back too many drinks, wondering how to break up with Michael. My father had insisted my mother would never forgive me if she found out I was dating Michael. I didn’t need another black mark in her book.”

  Following Samson’s cue, she lifted her eyes to the heavens. At random, she picked out a star. It was more brilliant than a diamond, winking alone in the southeast portion of the sky. She pretended the glittering dot would lead her true north, toward understanding, as she trod further into the memory of that night.

  “When I left the bar, I got a flat tire on a winding stretch of Chagrin River Road. No streetlights, and it was raining like crazy. One of those summer downpours that seem like they’ll never stop. The storm scared me so much, I pulled out my phone and called Elizabeth. Walking back to the bar would’ve made more sense. Someone would’ve helped me change the flat.”

  “Like you said, you were scared.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Waking Elizabeth was self-centered. Why did I think it was okay to bug her at midnight? Emerson was just a few months old. The last thing she needed was an SOS from her big sister. But I knew Latrice was staying over and my parents were home. Emerson wouldn’t be alone. She was already downstairs, pulling on a coat, when we hung up.”

  Samson’s curious gaze flicked across her features. “Your dad came with her?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure he felt bad about arguing with me earlier and tried to convince Elizabeth to stay home. She would’ve refused. It didn’t take them long to reach me.”