Bad For Each Other

by Kate Hathaway

  She was startled when the elevator bumped to a stop and the doors opened. Exiting, she turned left down the corridor toward the hospital dining room, her mind still occupied with Charlie.

  She had teased him about not being a nineties male, but she realized it was true. Oh, he was amenable to her working if she wanted to and she knew he respected her judgment. Major decisions would be joint ones.

  But in other ways he was a throwback to an earlier time. A time when a man meant the vows he made. When his word was his bond, and the bond of blood was the strongest of all. When the greatest sin a man could commit was not to be there for his child.

  At twenty, pregnant with his child, she had not understood that about him. Chances were, at twenty, Lucy hadn't either.

  More than anything, she wished she knew where she stood with him. He found her body pleasing, of that much she was certain, though he'd never expressed his appreciation so directly before. His words had both embarrassed and inflamed her, and she hadn't known how to respond. Yes, he found her body pleasing.

  But if he felt more than that, he'd never said. For a man who made his living through words, he was stingy with them. Was she a fool to want to believe him when he told her she should trust him?

  Men lie, Molly, she heard her mother say. It's what they do best. Was she a fool to try to blot out the memory of the way she had seen her father? And the memory of the way she had seen Charlie?

  Charlie stomped into the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. He jerked open the refrigerator, saw cans, and slammed that door, too. He threw himself into the only comfortable chair in the room, thrust his booted feet up on the dresser and crossed his ankles. Resting his head against the chair back, he brought his hat down to cover his face.

  He ignored the light tap on the door, hoping whoever was there would get the message. No such luck. He heard the door open and close and the heavy clunk of boot heels across the linoleum floor, then the muffled whump of the seal breaking when the refrigerator opened again.

  "You want a beer, Kick?" Harlan asked.

  "Not from a can," he answered through the hat.

  "You can't taste the difference. Where'd you ever get such a crazy idea?"

  "I can taste the difference." He could hear the metallic pop of Harlan's beer and the scrape of chair legs on the floor as the other man took a seat. Hell. He was going to stay and chat.

  "The show went pretty well," Harlan said after a long swallow and an "Ahhhh." Charlie recrossed his ankles, shifting in the chair and lacing his fingers over his belly. He still wasn't used to the feel of the ring on his hand. "It stunk."

  "Aw, anybody can break a guitar string, Kick. It only took a couple minutes to fix. The way you kept up the yammering, the audience didn't even notice." Harlan beat out a tattoo on the seat of the chair. "The crowd seemed to like the new material."

  Charlie nudged his hat up with his thumb. "That's another thing. Are we all going our own way up there, or what? Jase was late coming in on the bridge, and I don't know what the hell you were doing back there on the drums."

  Harlan looked at him quietly for some moments, then cleared his throat. "We talked about that, remember? Before you left for Pittsburgh. We were gonna try it this way."

  Charlie looked away sharply and blew out a disgusted breath. "I forgot."

  The older man shrugged, taking another swig of his beer. "I don't think the crowd noticed that, either." He grinned down at the can in his hand. "Judging from the intimate apparel all over the stage, the ladies were happy with the performance."

  "Ladies, my eye." Charlie dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "When do you s'pose that's gonna stop? I'm a married man," he said, thumping his fingers against his chest. "Shooter's the only bachelor left in the band and he doesn't need any encouragement."

  "Well, I don't—"

  "Hell, Harlan, we've got little kids in the audience, we've got older people. How does that look?"

  Harlan put his can aside, rubbing his hands together and looking at Charlie through narrowed eyes. "Your boy doing all right?"

  Charlie sighed. "He's lost his hair." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The doc says it'll grow back." He removed his hat and scratched his fingers through his own hair. "He's cheerful. Not showing any signs of complications."

  Harlan took a deep breath and seemed to relax a little. "Well, that's good. We've noticed you're a little edgy, is all." He shot another furtive glance at Charlie. "Sometimes these trips home aren't all we hope they'll be. The wives or girlfriends are—" he cleared his throat again "—unavailable."

  Charlie lifted his head to gaze at Harlan, unable to believe the ears he felt burning. What a dandy topic of conversation among the fellas this was. Tread lightly around the boss. He's a little bit cranky 'cause he didn't get laid.

  He leaned back in his chair, stuck his feet up on the dresser and plopped his hat over his face. "Stuff a sock in it, Harlan," he said.

  Chapter 9

  Molly headed to the waiting room for a cup of coffee while Tobie's nurse helped him with his bath and did his assessment. The morning was still gray, she noted, peering out a rain-streaked window as she fed quarters into the machine. It didn't look like it was going to clear up.

  Gingerly, she lifted the plastic door and slipped the steaming coffee out. Glancing around the lounge for someone familiar to while away the next few minutes with, she spotted Gail Ramsey sitting in a corner by herself. The thin, dark-haired woman was hunched over, elbows on her knees, a tissue clutched in a fist against her mouth.

  Gail's four-year-old son, Jeff, had undergone a transplant several weeks before Tobie, and Molly thought he was due to be discharged soon. Had something gone wrong? Fighting the natural resistance she felt at the prospect of hearing bad news, she steeled herself to offer what comfort she could. She walked over to Gail and took a seat beside her on the couch, shoving aside magazines to make room for her coffee on the table in front of it.

  "What's the matter, Gail? Is Jeff having problems?"

  The woman turned tear-reddened eyes to Molly and smiled weakly. "No. He's doing well, as a matter of fact. Dr. Morrissey says he can leave the hospital tomorrow."

  Molly felt her shoulders sag with relief and only then realized she'd been holding them rigid. She put her hand on Gail's arm, ready to mouth congratulations, but hesitated. Her friend's manner and appearance didn't jibe with her words. Something was wrong.

  "What is it, then? Can I help?"

  Gail straightened, twisting the tissue in her hands. "Oh, Molly. He's doing so well I almost feel guilty getting down like this." A sigh shuddered out of her. "It's everything else."

  Molly slid her hand down the woman's arm to her hand and squeezed. "Tell me."

  "Jeffy will be discharged tomorrow, but we won't be going home. We'll have a little three-room suite in that apartment building the hospital makes available to families from out of town."

  At her words Molly recalled the unit's stipulation that the patients remain in the area three months post-discharge for follow-ups. That hadn't been a concern for her with Tobie, since they lived locally. Gail, if she remembered correctly, was from some small town in eastern Pennsylvania.

  Gail's voice quavered as she continued. "I miss Michael and the girls. But he has to work and they're still in school. And even with the hospital subsidizing the housing, the cost is..." She shrugged and bit her lip, unable to go on.

  Molly was reminded starkly of how heavily that same concern had weighed upon her a few short weeks before. With Charlie's arrival, money had ceased to be a consideration at all.

  "I don't want to seem ungrateful. I thank God every day that Susan was a match for Jeffy and he's getting better."

  "I understand, Gail." She did. She remembered vividly how guilty she had felt worrying about mundane things when her child's life hung in the balance. But the world didn't go away.

  Gail blotted her eyes. "You're so luc
ky, Molly. I'm glad for you and jealous at the same time. We have insurance, but the bills are still staggering. My parents have taken out a second mortgage on their home to help us. Even so—" she shook her head "—I don't see how we'll ever come out from under."

  Molly had been aware of this situation repeated in family after family, but for the past few weeks she'd been blinded to it. Now the uneasy mix of hope and helplessness she'd felt returned with stunning clarity. She remembered the talk of bake sales, church events and fund-raisers—anything to raise the money to help a child. There had to be a better way.

  Even as she had the thought, a plan was forming in her mind. Before marital unhappiness had turned her into a recluse, Molly's mother had been a hostess of some renown in Wheeling society. Organization was her forte. Not for nothing was she her mother's daughter, Molly thought.

  She picked up her coffee and blew on it before taking a cautious sip. Then she faced Gail again. "We'll keep in touch when Jeffy is released," she said. "I think there may be a way to help you."

  Charlie stared at his reflection in the dressing-room mirror. Less than an hour till show time, and he had some thinking to do. He smoothed shaving cream over his jaw and reached for his razor.

  He'd been honest with Molly when he'd said he didn't expect to win tonight. Counting the awards he'd gotten for songwriting, Best Video, Best Album, he had enough of those little statuettes to put one on every single mantel in that big old house they were renting.

  He'd been glad to win them. It was gratifying to have his hard work and talent acknowledged and appreciated. And in his mind he recognized that, in all fairness, it was someone else's turn.. But in his gut, he wanted to win tonight.

  This one was personal.

  He had some words he wanted to say to a little boy. In public right out over the airwaves, he wanted to let Tobie know that he missed him. That in his time of triumph he carried his son's image with him. He wanted to show him that he was in his mind and his heart, no matter what was going on in his life.

  So he wanted to win, just once more, tonight. He took a deep breath, stretched his skin taut, and plied the razor.

  Molly shifted in the vinyl chair and glanced over at Tobie. He'd been dozing off and on for the last hour. Right now he had his head turned to the side with his chin resting on his shoulder. The black hat he was never without covered his lap. She moved to take it away and lower the head of his bed, but he stirred, so she let him be.

  Maybe it was just as well that he slept. Charlie hadn't won either of the awards he'd thought were maybes. Worse, he hadn't presented any awards or performed. They hadn't even caught a glimpse of him when the camera panned the audience of big hats and big hair.

  Things had quieted down on the floor, too. There had been some commotion earlier, when the awards Charlie was up for had been announced. He was a popular figure with the kids on the unit, having taken the time to stop in and talk to many of them. Even the nurses had found opportunities to come to the door and sneak a peek at the TV. Those who hadn't been fans of Charlie's before his visits were now.

  It was going on eleven. Only one category left, for Best Entertainer, the big one. Charlie had never won that one and said he didn't have a prayer of picking it up this time. Not with the competition this year.

  She leaned her head back on the chair and gazed at the television through slitted eyes. She barely registered what was taking place on the screen until she heard the whoops and laughter coming from the other rooms.

  Then she saw him, stepping carefully in front of others, accepting the back slaps and hugs of congratulations, as he made his way from his seat to the aisle. Midway back in the audience, he'd been seated. He really hadn't been expected to win it this time.

  Molly got her first good look at him when he reached the aisle and headed for the stage. She leaned over to shake Tobie awake but saw he was already straightening up in the bed, eyes wide and mouth agape. Glancing back at the TV, she pressed a hand to her chest in an effort to calm the frantic knocking of her heart against her ribs.

  Tobie crept on hands and knees to the foot of his bed to get a closer look. "Mom!" he said in a hushed voice.

  "I see, Tobie."

  The boy sat on his heels, his hands resting on his skinny thighs as he stared. "Mom, did he—"

  Charlie reached the presenters and received his award, turned to the audience and doffed his hat. His head was completely bald. Outside the room, Molly could hear the entire Transplant Unit go wild, every child there with various degrees of hair loss and regrowth sharing a special kinship with that gleaming pate up on the stage.

  Tobie gave a shout and Molly lurched from her chair to clasp him before he threw himself over the bed rail into her arms. He pounded her back, laughing and crying at the same time. "Mom, look at him!"

  "I know, Tobie," she said, her own eyes filling and her voice tight. Over the pandemonium she strained to hear Charlie's words as he dedicated his award to his son and the other brave children on the unit.

  Suddenly Tobie stilled and stared again at the television. "He must really love me, Mom," he whispered, awe in his tone. "He looks awful."

  Molly clutched her son's head to her breast and gazed at her husband. That depended entirely on your perspective, she decided. He looked pretty good to her.

  "What did he say?"

  Molly had picked up the phone on the first ring. She'd settled Tobie down for the night and hurried home as soon as she could, knowing Charlie would call her there. The hospital switchboard didn't put calls through to patients' rooms after ten.

  "He's very proud, Charlie, and very touched, but what he said was, you look awful."

  "Yeah. Well, you can promise him for me that I'll never rub his head again. They've been doing that to me all night. It gets old real quick."

  Molly laughed. "Whatever possessed—"

  "It bothers me that I can't be there with him. That I can't help you. But I've got a lot of people depending on me at this end. At least now, no matter how far apart we are, we share this."

  "It means a lot to him, Charlie. The whole unit went crazy, as a matter of fact." She paused a moment. "I'm glad you won."

  "Yeah. It was special. The guys are pleased." She could hear his heavy sigh. "I have to tell you, I've been a bear. There's not a fella in the band still talking to me. Even Harlan walks around with his chin on his chest when he gets near me.

  She could guess what had prompted his mood. "I'm sorry, Charlie..."

  "Hey, that's all right. Can't have you thinkin' I only come home for one thing."

  Thinking just that, she laughed again, but her question was serious. "When will you be home again?"

  "Aw, it'll be weeks, Molly. We've got dates in Texas, Colorado, we've rescheduled Tulsa. Six weeks, anyway, it looks like."

  "Tobie will be home by then."

  "I know. I've got two weeks blocked out there with nothing scheduled and I'll guard 'em with my life."

  She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "I've had an idea."

  "Uh-oh."

  "Charlie!"

  "Someday I'll have to show you what it does to me when you say my name just that way."

  "Charlie!"

  "Yeah, like that."

  Embarrassed laughter bubbled out. "That laugh's good, too." She heard his low chuckle. "What's your idea, honey?"

  "You remember Gail Ramsey and her son?"

  "Jeff."

  "Yes." He did remember, all right. That was part of his popularity. When he talked to people, he really talked to them.

  He hadn't lost the common touch. "The boy was discharged this morning. He and Gail will have to stay in the area for the next three months, though. Charlie, they're really strapped for funds. It's so hard. I remember what it was like to have to watch every nickel and practically beg to get my child what he needed."

  He was quiet for so long that she thought she had offended him with her mention of what she had gone through for Tobie. His voice was subdued whe
n he answered. "Molly, I'm rich, but even I can't pay for every fam—"

  "No, Charlie, that's not what I meant."

  "What, then?"

  She licked her lips, trying to decide how best to phrase her request. "I was thinking of a benefit performance to set up some kind of fund...like an endowment. Families could draw on the interest when they needed it. They'd pay it back when they were able, but they wouldn't be hounded for it."

  "You're talking a lot of money there." He sounded skeptical.

  "I know," she pushed on. "But if we had a really big name, best in the business, say..." "Ahh..."

  "Charlie, your name would bring in the corporate sponsors. That's where the money is. The law firm I worked for has the contacts..."

  "And you can twist arms with the best of them." He sounded like he was coming around. "That may be doable. Let me talk to some people here tonight, see who I can rope in."

  "I hadn't even thought of others."

  "I've done my share of favors. I've got some chits I can call in. When were you thinking of having this production?" "You'll be home in six weeks."

  "It's going to be a working vacation, I take it," he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "See what you can set up over there and I'll take care of my end."

  "Thanks, Charlie."

  "Give Tobie a hug from me. You know, I was thinking. Doc Morrissey told us his hair might not be the same when it comes in. It might be a different texture or color. Maybe it'll grow back red. Wouldn't that be a hoot?"

  She couldn't resist. "Maybe yours won't grow back at all. Wouldn't that be a hoot?"

  "Ouch! Watch your mouth, woman!"

  Molly plowed into her work with a vengeance. Though ordinarily she hated to ask for favors, this was different. This wasn't for herself, and her heart was engaged.

  It was easier than she'd anticipated. Charlie's name counted for a lot and the others he'd brought in only added to the allure. Country music was huge and the cause was worthy. Everyone wanted to be a part of it.

  The lawyers from her firm donated their time and their Rolodex. Within two weeks she had a venue, concessions, T-shirts, all donated. The hospital administration and civic leaders were on board. Between the arm-twisting she discovered she was good at and the time she spent with Tobie, she had little opportunity to dwell on what was missing from her life.