A Weekend Getaway

by Karen Lenfestey

  “They asked me to do the keynote, but I suggested that each of the original members should share the spotlight, too.”

  “Oh, so I have you to thank for that.” She gave him a playful scowl.

  “I didn’t want it to be all about me. I’ll say a few words, though.” He swallowed. “Not that they’ll listen. I know I didn’t listen to anyone when I was their age. If I would’ve, Ivy and I wouldn’t be together. God, how my life would’ve been different.”

  She could’ve told him not to marry Ivy, but he was enraptured by her. He thrived on her roller coaster of emotion. He didn’t want someone serious and stable like Beth. Like most men, he wanted a Victoria’s Secret model in his bed. “Hindsight is 20/20 they say.”

  “Definitely. I wasn’t going to come this weekend since things are so strained between Ivy and me. But then I thought maybe returning here to where we first fell in love would help us reconnect. I’d hoped that I would remember how it was in the beginning for us. But the truth is I can’t help wondering if she was lying to me even then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know we kind of had to get married. But then Ivy said she lost the baby.”

  “Said she lost the baby?”

  “Now that I’ve spent years with Ivy, I’ve learned that she twists the truth to fit her needs. She’s so narcissistic, she’d make a terrible mother. I think she knew that.”

  “Maybe.” Beth had never heard Parker speak like this about Ivy. No matter how much the woman jerked him around in college, he always came back for more.

  “I hate to say this, but. . . I sometimes wonder if she got rid of the baby.”

  Beth tried not to gasp. Would Ivy have had an abortion? Had she stolen him away from Beth with a lie? Anger and fear and regret swirled inside her, tightening her chest. “What makes you think that?”

  “When I was ready to start a family, I suggested we consider adoption, but she refused. I don’t think she ever wanted kids. Look how she wimped out of today’s service project. She’s a child herself. And that’s the way she likes it.”

  Well, Beth couldn’t argue with that. “Even so, that doesn’t mean Ivy purposely did something to end her pregnancy. I remember how devastated she was. She cried for weeks.”

  “But only when she thought people were watching. I saw her once right afterward when she thought she was alone. She looked out the window, touched her belly and smiled. We were married by then and I didn’t want to believe it. I thought we’d have more children, that we’d go on with the lives we’d planned. Ivy kept singing in night clubs while I worked all day. Without children to bring us together, we grew apart.”

  “Wow, Parker. I’m sorry I don’t know what to say. Ivy always bragged that she was daddy’s little girl who could do no wrong. But as far as lying about an abortion, I don’t think she would.”

  “I probably should’ve divorced her years ago, but. . . I didn’t want to fail.”

  Beth could relate. She was a perfectionist, too. But relationships weren’t like school or work. You couldn’t just study harder. You didn’t get a report card to let you know how things were going. What you got were pecks on the cheek instead of a kiss on the lips. You got “sorry I’ve got so much work to do” instead of a romantic weekend. You got a little girl thrown between you, taking the place of your own family.

  He shifted in his seat. “I shouldn’t have dumped all of this on you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Should she tell him about Ivy bringing some guy back to the hotel room last night? Was her loyalty to her girlfriend or to Parker, the man for whom she obviously still harbored a crush? Well, it was more than a crush.

  She’d been robbed of the man who would’ve made everything right.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Parker typed “painless suicide” into the search engine on his laptop. Most men would go for a gunshot to the head, but surely there was something more civilized. The first website he found was a ruse—a warning from some religious group that suicide would mean he’d burn in hell, complete with a video of someone on fire. He quickly clicked off that site and onto another. Drowning, suffocation, hanging. All of that sounded horrible. Not as horrible as if he did nothing, though.

  Apparently if he went to Mexico he could get an over-the-counter drug used for animal euthanasia. He’d have to think about that.

  He heard the hotel room door unlock, and Ivy giggling as she entered. He turned off his computer and flipped the lid down. “Feeling better?” After settling Beth into her room across the hall with her leg propped up on pillows, he’d sat alone, watching the sunset outside his window. That was an hour ago.

  Ivy’s smile fell. “I was crazy tired when I was sorting at the Salvation Army. After a little nap, I decided to check out how much campus has changed.” She dropped her Gucci purse on the double bed, kicked off her Jimmy Choos and came near. Her thick eyelashes fluttered which meant she was in the mood. She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips met his.

  Her breath smelled of alcohol and he pulled away. “You went out drinking while the rest of us were working?”

  She stroked his hair. “Don’t be mad. This weekend is supposed to be fun. It wasn’t my idea to do a service project before the banquet.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

  “But it was my idea to celebrate our fifteen year reunion.”

  “Sixteen years.”

  She shrugged. “Oops. So I’m off a year.”

  How did he not know she’d planned this? They led such separate lives these days. Him working ten to twelve-hour days and her singing in that run-down club every weekend. “This was your idea?”

  “Sure. I noticed you seemed kind of down lately, going through an early mid-life crisis or something. So, I contacted the current club president and arranged tonight’s celebration.”

  His heart skipped a beat. His wife had done all of this just to cheer him up. She still cared for him in her own, dysfunctional way.

  He moved forward and kissed her red lips.

  ###

  Parker watched Beth give her speech and tried to listen, but his mind wrestled with the words he would soon share with the crowd. A glance around the room revealed about one hundred people sitting at banquet tables. Thirty of them were current college students while the rest consisted of alumni and their spouses. The lights were dim except for one shining on the podium where Beth stood. She was the only female in the room wearing a pantsuit instead of a dress. Once a tomboy, always a tomboy, he figured.

  Beth’s words came to him in spurts. “The friends I made here were the best friends I ever had.” “I learned as much from this club as I did in any classroom.” “Don’t wait for other people to make your dreams come true.” Hard to believe that confident woman turned beet red and fainted the first day of speech class.

  He’d be up there soon, saying things he wasn’t sure he could say, and the weight of it glued him to his chair. This was it. He’d never visit campus again. Never share words of wisdom with his comrades. He’d never see his college buddies again, either. How had he let so many years pass with Christmas cards as their only form of communication?

  Applause brought his mind back to the present. Beth’s expression looked satisfied and relieved. The woman had been reserved in college, but now she glowed. Why hadn’t he realized that she’d been something special back then? Ivy, on the other hand, hadn’t matured or grown much at all. With her Botox and her musician friends, she desperately clung to her youth. How ironic that he should be the one guaranteed to never grow old.

  He stood and made his way to the podium as Beth limped back to her seat. He patted her on the back when she passed. “Good job.”

  She beamed from his compliment. She’d had such an obvious crush on him years ago. But all he’d seen was a chubby girl who didn’t even bother to wear makeup. He cringed just thinking about how shallow he’d once been.

  As he raised the microphone several inches, he s
tole another glance at the crowd. The applause faded and expectant faces turned to him. The joke he’d planned as an opening darted from his mind, He didn’t feel like laughing anyway, so he jumped right in.

  “When I arrived at I.U., I rushed a fraternity as soon as I could. We did some stupid stuff. One pledge almost died of alcohol poisoning and I was the only one who insisted we call 911. Because of that, we lost our charter and everyone hated me. I started thinking that these guys were never my friends. They’d risk a young man’s life rather than get in trouble. I decided there should be a club for like-minded people. People who didn’t need to be hazed to prove their commitment. People who wanted to leave this world a better place than when they found it.”

  He paused, looked down at his notes for the first time. “I hope you continue to celebrate every five or ten years because what you do here touches those who are less fortunate than you—the poor, the elderly, the ill.” Another lump to swallow before he could go on. “You are amazingly hard-working, altruistic people. Those of you who know me know that I met my lovely wife in the Leadership Club.” It was a man’s duty to acknowledge his wife. At least that’s what Parker had always told young professionals, too nervous about their speech to think straight. He wasn’t about to break his rules now. “Since we were never blessed with children, this club will be my only legacy.” He swallowed and continued. “You see, I just found out that I have Huntington’s disease...” His eyes burned.

  The audience gasped. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for thinking beyond yourself, beyond your GPA, beyond your next pub crawl.” A few uncomfortable chuckles. “Thank you for carrying on something that I started over fifteen years ago. You make me proud.”

  A roar of clapping. People pushed back their chairs and stood, applauding. His first and last standing ovation.

  # # #

  Beth gasped. Is Huntington’s fatal? Is it genetic? OhGod-ohGod.

  She watched Parker bypass the table where he’d been sitting and rush out of the room. Ivy, in a low-cut black dress, jumped up and followed him.

  The people around her mumbled “But he looks so healthy” and “I never would’ve guessed” but Beth shut out their voices. Leaning over, she whispered to Sarah. “Did you know he was sick?”

  Sarah’s hazel eyes looked bigger than usual. She shook her head. “I know his grandfather died young, but I’m not sure from what.” Her gaze locked on Beth. “Want to go somewhere to talk?”

  A brunette twenty-something that Beth didn’t recognize took the podium and cleared her throat. “Um. That’s it for our guest speakers.” Her voice quivered with nervousness as she adjusted the lace collar of her dress. “The d.j. will take it from here. Thank you for coming.”

  Beth nodded to Sarah, and they tiptoed out of the banquet hall as Lee Ann Womack’s “I Hope you Dance” started playing. They walked through the Union in silence—Beth barely favoring one leg. With each step, she felt transported further back in time, back to her old timid self whose voice quivered whenever she had to speak in public. To a time when she struggled to strike a balance between sitting it out and jumping in. A time when bold actions were only achieved with the help of alcohol.

  They ducked into a vacant women’s restroom, and Beth plopped down on a settee that sat opposite a row of sinks. “Parker’s sick. I can’t believe it.”

  Sarah sat next to her. “That was so sad about the club being his only legacy. Sounds like he regrets not having any kids. You never told him, did you?”

  “No. He married Ivy right before I found out. He didn’t want to know about me and my problems.”

  “It was his problem, too. I think he would’ve been there for you.”

  Beth bristled. “How? Maybe he would’ve paid child support, but he wouldn’t have left Ivy for me. He wouldn’t have been a full-time father. My baby deserved two parents who were ready for a family.”

  “Hey, I’m not criticizing. I can’t imagine how hard it was to give up your baby. You did what you thought was best.”

  Silence filled the air. They’d had this same conversation years ago. Yet it still felt like on some level Sarah disapproved.

  Sarah crossed her legs. “Do you ever wonder what she’d be doing now? How old would she be?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Sarah repeated the number as it settled around them.

  “Old enough to drive a car. Old enough to date. Old enough to find out about me.” Beth looked up at the wide mirror above the sinks and saw a stranger staring back at her. A wisp of dishwater blonde hair had fallen from her chignon. Worry lines creased the forehead above her sky blue eyes and for the first time in her life, her cheekbones stood out. “That’s what we agreed to when I placed her. They’d tell her she was adopted from the get-go and when she was sixteen, they’d tell her about me so she could make contact, if she wanted.”

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “No.” She’d been bracing herself for it since August. So far it hadn’t happened.

  “Wow. I mean, I don’t know what to say. I always thought adoptees felt this yearning to meet their biological parents.”

  Beth had assumed the same thing. But part of her felt relieved that the baby she gave away hadn’t reappeared. It would throw everything into turmoil. She wouldn’t mind confirmation that her child was healthy and happy, but she didn’t know how Drew would handle the news. One of these days, she had to tell him. Although it seemed Parker might shake things up sooner rather than later. “Do you know if Huntington’s is genetic?”

  Sarah shrugged.

  “Maybe I should inform the agency so they can tell her.” Beth didn’t even know her name. “I wish I understood more about the disease.”

  “Want to go to the twenty-four hour computer lab?”

  “You think it’s still there?”

  “Probably.” Sarah put her hand over Beth’s. “I told you this when we were freshmen and I’ll tell you again. I’m here for you. Whatever I can do to help, I’ll be here.”

  Tears stung Beth’s eyes, but she resisted them. The memory remained amazingly fresh. Sarah had bumped into her at the store when she’d been waiting in line to buy the pregnancy test. Beth had tried to hide it under a magazine when she checked out. Sarah, who lived three doors down, had insisted they walk back to the dorm together. She’d waited outside the bathroom stall while the test strip turned pink. She’d patted Beth’s back while she bawled. Within minutes Beth had moved from isolation to collaboration.

  Beth had never told anyone but her. She’d hid the pregnancy with baggy clothes, which was easy to do when you were already overweight. She’d stopped drinking at parties and started eating healthier. She’d tried to do all the right things. As the daughter of a minister, she still felt guilty for giving in to the sins of the flesh.

  Beth reached around Sarah’s shoulders for a hug. Her friend had always been so compassionate, so nurturing. Beth reminded herself to keep it together. “We should go.”

  A moment later, they were back in the hall, heading toward the computer lab. A blast of cold, dry air and too-bright fluorescent lights greeted them inside the room. Most of the chairs remained vacant. Beth selected one and typed in “Huntington’s disease.”

  Staring at the word “terminal” on the screen, she took a deep breath. A couple of hours ago her biggest worry was her speech and her commitment-phobic boyfriend. Now the past she’d buried so deep inside her, had to be addressed. She couldn’t know what she now knew and return home like nothing had happened. Could she?

  Sarah leaned toward her. “It sounds horrible.”

  Poor Parker. Both his mind and body would deteriorate until the disease killed him. Somehow modern medicine had yet to cure this condition. Patients could live another 10 to 25 years after experiencing symptoms, but it struck each generation younger and younger.

  Sarah kept staring at her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Tell the
agency, I guess, so they can pass the information along.”

  “What about Parker? Are you going to tell him that he has a child?”

  Anxiety squeezed her chest. Should she tell Parker? He might not understand. Even worse, Drew might not forgive her. He often ranted about what a heartless person his sister was for giving away her firstborn. What would he think if he found out Beth had done the same thing? She had given birth, then tried to go on with life as if nothing had changed. Was she willing to risk the relationship she’d waited so long for by dredging up the past?

  Beth shook her head and cleared the screen.

  Sarah whispered. “Don’t you think he has a right to know?”

  Beth chewed on her thumbnail. Maybe she could tell Parker and Drew still wouldn’t find out. It’s not like the two men ever spoke to each other. She pushed away from the computer desk and headed for the door, Sarah right behind her the whole way.

  Sarah fell in step beside her. “I think you have a moral obligation to tell him.”

  Beth didn’t respond.

  “If you want, I’ll stay there with you. But it’s time he knew the truth, don’t you?” Sarah was worse than Jiminy Cricket.

  “It’s not that easy. I’ve gone on with my life. I’m in a serious relationship.”

  “You’re worried about how it will affect you.”

  Beth’s neck and shoulder muscles tensed. “I do have to consider that.” She hated how selfish it sounded when she heard it out loud.

  “He’s dying, Beth.” Her voice soft as a breeze. “His only regret is not having children. You could grant him that wish.”

  “Maybe I could write him a letter.”

  Sarah looked down her nose in the way she probably did when her kids disappointed her. “You owe him more than that. You need to be there to answer all of his questions.”

  Beth sighed as they approached the hotel room. She stopped a few steps away from the door and took another deep breath. “All right.” Trying to imagine revealing her secret, she wrung her hands. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. “It’s better if I talk to him by myself.”