Zack seemed to snort under his breath as he continued to inhale poutine. For that, he was rewarded with a smack to the back of the head from his wife. “Come…” Joanne said in resignation, trying to lead Madeleine from the kitchen and her hungry clan.
They were halted by the arrival of Harjitt. Joanne’s son, so excited to see him that he took to his feet on the high stool and started jumping up and down, balancing a slice of pizza in his hands, calling out, “Jeeter, Jeeter, Jeeter.”
Clearly a member of the family, Harjitt joined them without hesitation, saying, “Hey, did you get this from Poutinery?” While Zack filled him in on the sources of their impromptu feast, he scooped up Jo’s daughter, who’d been holding her arms up for him. She now understood she was the Starfish he’d mentioned. He held her as if he’d done it a million times, chatting away while the three-year-old lay sleepily in his arms.
Taking the opportunity to escape, Joanne hooked Madeleine’s arm, dragging her along.
“Your kids are so cute,” Madeleine offered, trying to ease Jo’s frustration and her own trepidation over seeing Kara.
“They should have been in bed hours ago,” she said, in a mommy tone of disapproval. She led Madeleine to the far end of the large condo where two older women stood with heads together in serious conversation. One was dressed in scrubs, the other wore an evening gown. Even with the disheveled hair and the ravages of makeup that had been ruined by tears, it was easy to recognize Kara’s mother. She could hear the words of comfort from the nurse. It reminded her of how many times her own mother had been called on to manage the expectations and often unbridled emotions of family members concerned for their loved ones. She wondered if it occurred to anyone in the healthcare system, other than the nurses, that in times of emergency, family members often required as much care as those injured or ill.
“There you are,” Kara’s mother said to Joanne. “The nurse has just been telling me she should be up and back on her feet within a few days.”
“I know, Mom. That’s what the doctor said. It’s what the nurse at the hospital said too. Now, will you please relax. Besides, I have someone I want to introduce—”
“Madeleine, sweetheart, forgive me. I’ve been a terrible hostess,” Kara’s mother lamented with sincerity. “I should have fetched you from the airport myself, but oh, I’ve just been so worried. You must be too?”
She nodded. “I was so relieved when Harjitt brought me up to speed on the drive here. How is she feeling?”
“Sedated,” the nurse explained. As Madeleine’s eyebrows lifted, she offered the standard reassuring smile while explaining, “Before she can heal, the body needs rest. The affected muscles and of course the bulging hernia are acutely inflamed. Were the nature and severity of her injuries explained?”
“My mom’s a nurse,” she answered as an explanation.
The nurse nodded, adding, “We see these kinds of injuries more often with athletes trying to push to a higher level of competition. The type sustained by those less able to maintain an Olympic workout schedule and trying to catch up all at once.”
“Oh my dear,” Marsha Wexler interjected, “Kara’s no Olympian. Her coach told me years ago she was too short to make the team. No, she just goes out to the club and paddles around.”
Madeleine knew the story of Kara being axed from the junior Olympic rowing team. It was Joanne who’d shared the story, not Kara. It was Jo who’d grumbled about the experience. It was a strange sort of story, one where Joanne boasted about her sister’s accomplishments while complaining about the situation. Kara had taken the demotion in stride, explaining to everyone that she’d been replaced by a better rower who she was sure would bring home plenty of medals to make them all proud. It was Joanne who whined and complained. And it was easy for Madeleine to imagine why the seven-year-old Joanne had felt the sting of the axe.
Kara’s baby sister worshiped her. As a child, she’d followed her or joined in all her activities. When Kara went to rowing practice, little Joanne would tag along with whistle and timepiece in hand. She was a natural organizer and the kind of kid everyone loved to have around. Some days at practice she would even be called upon to play the role of coxswain. It was easy for Madeleine to imagine little Joanne bristling with pride and taking the stern seat to pace the team.
“Mother,” Joanne interrupted. “Kara does not just paddle around. She’s on her own team, and solos as well.”
“Joni, please, stop baying at the moon. We all know what happened.” Turning to look directly at Madeleine, Mrs. Wexler explained, “Kara’s done what Kara always does. She’s worse than her father. She swallows up her emotions and focuses all her energy on work or her sports. Joanne, back me up here. Tell Madeleine about your father dislocating his shoulder and breaking his arm playing rugby the day after he lost the Peterson account.”
“Mother really, I don’t think this is the time…”
“Of course it’s the time, dear. Madeleine needs to know what she’s getting into.”
“And what am I getting into?”
While Joanne and Marsha Wexler looked shocked by the question, the nurse, smart enough to see this as her opportunity to escape, interrupted. “Well, I’m off. If anything changes just call home care. The number’s on her care instructions, and I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her.”
Joanne showed the nurse out. Leaving Madeleine alone facing the still disquieted Marsha Wexler. Before she could think of what to say, Marsha challenged her. “Why are you here?”
“I… She asked me.”
“Did she?” Marsha asked pointedly.
Suddenly unsure, Madeleine didn’t know what to say. Had Kara asked her to come to Toronto? Or had she simply been asking for help, a request she may have made to anyone who just happened to call at that precise moment?
“You girls…” Shaking her head in resignation, Marsha Wexler reached out, and taking Madeleine’s hand led her to the sofa and indicated that she should sit. With Marsha in her expensive gown and elegant jewelry, it felt a bit like a cast production. Was she about to be lectured by the headliner? “I should have expected this.”
“Expected what?”
“Expected you to be just as reticent as my daughter in conveying your emotions. That child exhausts me! To this day I cannot comprehend how my three children could be so different. Douglas with his two left feet, Joanne with her heart on her sleeve, and then there’s Kara—as if she were a bottle of pop someone’s been shaking up all day long. Open at your own risk.” She shook her head.
“Mrs. Wexler, in my own defense…”
“Please call me Marsha. Mrs. Wexler is that cotton-headed Barbie Doll married to the father of my children. Now, let’s not waste time. Kara is rolled up in a ball in bed and heavily sedated because she thought spending the entire day rowing as a sub on an Olympic-level team was a good idea. I know my child. That level of determination only raises its ornery head when she’s suffering terribly and determined to find a profitable distraction. You should know profitable does not always mean money with that girl.”
“I do know that.”
“Good thing. Let’s start there. I understand you’re an actress? Do you wish to stay in that profession or have you other dreams?”
“Dreams?” That caught her off guard. Who asked a woman over thirty if she had dreams?
“Yes dear. Dreams! Kara—well, the whole family, is in a position to help you with your vocational endeavors. If you desire such undertakings that is. What I won’t have this family do, and certainly not my daughter, is waste time on someone unwilling to help herself. You’ve joined a family of hard workers, Madeleine. Well, Dougie tries hard. Still, each in their own way, are achievers. Are you?”
Madeleine, sitting tall and proud, had been straining not to take offense. Did this woman think she was some guttersnipe or gold digger looking to use her as a step up or out? Reminding herself that Marsha Wexler didn’t know her, she reined in her attitude, explaining, “I studied th
eatre at school. Well, theatre and literature. I originally went to Vegas for an opportunity to choreograph a dinner theatre act. I only started dancing and singing, well, because those were the only jobs my manager could get me.” She hoped honesty would earn her points or at least a softening of this inquisition. What she said seemed to resonate deeply.
“Men!” Marsha huffed. “So quick to judge the outside packaging, so willing to consider the interior inferior to their own world. Sorry…” she apologized. “Sometimes I can be a little maudlin when it comes to the subject of the mutant sex.”
“Mutant?” Madeleine grinned at her description.
“Of course, dear. Your mother’s in the medical profession. Has she explained how the Y chromosome came to be? According to Kara’s biology one-oh-one professor, the male sex came into existence when the bottom leg of one of the XX chromosomes fell off.”
“I never heard that before. It certainly throws a kink in the Bible-thumper theory that God created Adam first.”
For the first time, Marsha smiled. Standing, she tugged on Madeleine’s hand. “Let’s have a quick peek at our girl. Make sure she’s okay then we’ll find the ice and make a nightcap. I’m sure we could both use a drink at this point.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kara woke with a stabbing pain in her back. Forgetting how she’d ended up like this, she tried reaching around to feel for whatever was pressing into her. The resulting escalation of pain halted her arm movement and pushed her mind back into gear. Fuck, what did I do this time? Now she remembered Dougie and Samantha bringing her home from the hospital with Joanne and her entire crew in pursuit. I should’ve called a cab. All this fuss for a few sprained muscles. She needed to pee. Why did the hospital do that all the time? Okay, she had arrived dehydrated. Okay, she’d been out on the water and in the sun all day. But they had poured enough IV fluids into her to fill a ship’s ballast tank.
Realizing she was in too much pain to get up, she did the next best thing, rolling over on her side, and falling down onto her hands and knees. The jolt of pain that followed was blinding, but she kept her balance on all fours, determined to make it to the bathroom, even if she had to crawl the whole way.
The sound of her falling from bed must’ve drawn the attention of whoever was still home. Suddenly hands were under her arms, lifting her and she found herself unceremoniously plopped down on the toilet. She could hear her mother jabbering, or maybe it was Joanne. While she relieved her bladder, someone handed her a glass of water and pills of some sort. At her mother’s urging, she swallowed them without argument. She allowed them to lead her back to the bed. For a moment she wondered how she got there in the first place, then that thought, like everything else, disappeared.
The next time Kara woke she was more aware. More aware of her back pain, and more aware her injuries exceeded a simple sprain. She also saw she was not alone. She recognized Madeleine immediately, asleep in the chair beside the bed, half wrapped in a blanket. Her feet were bare, a slender hand was outside the blanket, fingers intertwined with Kara’s. Huh… interesting. Madeleine’s here… Holding my hand… It was hard to figure out how that happened or when. Still, it’s nice, she thought as she fell into a deep sedation-induced slumber.
After enduring a long heart-to-heart with Marsha Wexler, Madeleine had been allowed to retire to the guest room. Kara’s mom, along with her sister and crew, then departed en masse to Marsha’s condo across the hall. Alone and wide-awake, Madeleine paced back to the master bedroom wanting to make one more check on Kara.
Even with the sedatives, her sleep was restless. She watched her hands flex and move as if she were in some deep conversation or sharing some special technique a card dealer might use. Maybe she was explaining some advanced rowing maneuver. She was starting to understand that Kara was capable of anything. Beyond that, she could see there were times when common sense had taken a back seat to her emotions. It was childish. It also made Madeleine warm inside to know Kara had been so deeply affected by her. Not the betrayal. That tore her apart, down deep in her gut.
Coming here had been more than a knee-jerk reaction. It was a risk. Not only did she risk rejection, but she was also risking her entire future. A real relationship with Kara meant so many changes. Moving to a new country would be the first. Could she do it? Leave the States and come here? Was it even feasible? Putting aside her concerns for meaningful work, she didn’t know how she would feel about emigrating from her home. Would people, family, and friends think her less American or less a patriot? And what about this country? Could she get a green card or whatever they called it? She knew it was almost impossible for Canadians to move to the States. They could get temporary visas for school, and some of the Canadian entertainers she worked with had years of experience and some big names backing their visas. Then there were the real hard questions, such as the social and career implications of coming out. Could she do it? She knew Kara would never tolerate having a partner who wasn’t out. Kara was an all or nothing type of woman. Which she adored and respected.
Kara, grumbling in her sleep, tried to roll. The resulting shock of pain woke her again.
“Kara, you’re okay, you’re okay…”
“What…”
“Oh, honey you’re okay. You put your back out, so you need to try and sleep on your side.”
Kara made some indiscernible noise that could have passed for agreement and then she was asleep again. Watching her, Madeleine made up her mind. Quietly retreating to the guest room, she gathered pillows and the blanket folded across the foot of the bed and carried them back down the hall.
She pushed the upholstered chair from the corner of Kara’s room right up beside the bed. Kicking off her shoes and socks, she loosened up her clothing then wrapped herself in the blanket, making herself comfortable in the chair. If Kara woke up and told her to get the hell out, so be it. She would. Until then, she was here, and she would help take care of her. Kara may not care for her, but God knows she cared for Kara. The whole seduction fantasy number and how it was scripted to encourage romance had worked just as well on her as it had Kara. But it was more than that. Could it be that she needed what Kara was offering just as much as she needed her? Was need even involved? She couldn’t imagine what Kara would ever need. The woman seemed so completely self-sufficient. She herself could admit her need, but it was hard to define. It was new, for sure, this deep abiding desire for Kara Wexler.
It wasn’t just companionship or friendship either. Although both those pieces were integral, her desire ran deeper. It burned inside her, like some ferocious beast newly awakened. She more than craved her. She ached for her.
Sitting curled up in the chair and watching her sleep by the dim light seeping in from the hall, she understood there was more involved than need or desire. Kara would know that and Kara would question her. She would need to be ready for that conversation and she needed to be honest. That meant being honest with herself right now and right here. Did she need her? From the common perspective, no. She could return to the airport tomorrow, fly home, and forget the whole thing. She was quite capable of restarting her life in Minneapolis or anywhere for that matter. So, from a practical sense, she was proud to say she wouldn’t need Kara like that. Certainly not the way other women looked at her and thought of her. And that gave her the courage to look deeper.
Did she love her? Yes. There was no question about it. The real worry came in facing her desires. Personal privacy didn’t exist in this day and age. Both she and Kara worked in industries where social functions were a regular part of the job. Could she get used to the entertainment ranks reporting on her attending events with Kara Wexler on her arm? By conventional standards, Kara was no beauty. That thought actually made her smile. She loved the way she looked. She’d probably put on a few pounds since her days as a high school rowing champion but nothing ungainly or unnatural for a woman. Grey strands were easy to spot in her thick dark hair. And as she didn’t bother with makeup or even concealer
, the crow’s feet around her eyes and the laugh lines around her mouth were visible. In Madeleine’s eyes, they made her seem more genuine, more real, more down-to-earth. She was just who she was, and Madeleine loved her for it. Yes, yes, she would be proud to be seen on any red carpet with Kara Wexler on her arm.
“But what about Kara?” she asked herself unkindly. What about her circumstances? How would she feel about having Madeleine on her arm? Would it make her feel proud? Would she know how proud Madeleine was to be with her? She sighed and thought quietly for a long while. The real question was not how Kara would feel to have her on her arm. She knew very well Kara found her attractive. Most people did. But what about Kara’s true feelings? Could she forgive her and welcome her into her world, into her life? Judging by Jo’s enthusiasm, her family seemed to think so. She knew she would’ve been on shaky ground if Marsha too did not hold strongly to the belief that Kara would forgive her and wanted her here. Coming here had been a risky bet, but with the stakes this high, she was all in.
* * *
Marsha Wexler had followed the doctor’s orders, getting Kara up and moving first thing the next day. She’d taken her breakfast at the dining room table, only choosing that spot when she couldn’t actually get herself on the stool in the kitchen. After polishing off a plate of Mom’s famous French toast, she promptly threw it back up. Humiliated, she was close to tears as her mother fussed to clean her up. Samantha appeared from nowhere, offering her help and reassurances. They managed to get her to the bathroom where she was able to wash her face and rinse her mouth. Kara had every intention of returning to bed but her mother and Samantha had other ideas.
Marsha, blocking her escape, explained bluntly, “I’m sorry, my dear, but you stink to high heaven. No worries; Samantha and I are here to help. We’ll get you in and out of the shower as quickly as we can, then right back to bed. I’m sure by then the pain pills will have kicked in, and you’ll sleep.”
Cause and Affection Page 19
