Hope Over Fear (Over #1)

by J. A. Derouen

  I can’t help but crack up at my crazy friend. Where does she come up with this stuff? “Thanks Marlo, but I think you can save the matches for another time. I’m happy for them … and hopeful for me. I’ve been beating myself up for way too long, and I’m done with it. Mason gets his new beginning today, and so do I. You can call off the crazy watch, I promise.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, my friend. I’m about to crash for the rest of the day, but feel free to wake me up if your good cheer starts wavering. Hey, are you on ‘hoo-hoo duty’ with me tonight?” Marlo asks as she rises up and starts walking down the sidewalk.

  “Gross! Stop it with the nasty ass names!” Marlo and I not only live next to each other, we also work nights together at Providence General Hospital’s labor and delivery unit. I may give her shit about her foul mouth, but her antics have kept me awake on more night shifts than I can count.

  “Please accept my heartfelt apology. I didn’t mean to offend your sensitive ears, m’lady,” Marlo retorts in her best British accent. “Now, are you part of the “vagina squad” or not?”

  I shake my head, giving silent thanks for the wonderful friends in my life. After Mason and I imploded, I shut myself off from everyone I loved. They didn’t understand my actions, and I didn’t feel the need to explain. For a short period of time, Alex and Marlo granted me the space I so desperately needed. About a month into my self-imposed exile, they stormed my house and gave me the tough love I needed to start the healing process.

  “Sorry, babe, you’ll have to carry on without me. I don’t work again until Monday night.”

  “Why don’t you stop by and goof around with us tonight? I don’t want you at home alone—that’s a definite recipe for wallowing, and I know how you can be, girl.”

  “Thanks, but I’m covered,” I tell Marlo, “Alex and I are taking a little road trip to her parents’ house in Cedar Ridge. She’s been kind of secretive about the trip, so I’m not sure what she has planned. I’m game for whatever, though, as long as I can spend a little time out of town. No matter how well I’m taking all of this, I think it’s a good idea to create a little distance for the weekend. We’ll probably be back in Providence tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Cool, I’m glad Alex has you covered. Well, it’s siesta time for me, so I’ll catch ya later. Glad to see you’re doing okay, Sara. Now, please go shower. I can smell your nasty ass from all the way over here.” Marlo winks over her shoulder and makes her way back to her house.

  Yeah, a shower is definitely in order …

  “Brave” by Sara Bareilles

  “Words” by Train

  “OKAY, ALEX, I’M buckled in, and the car is moving. We are officially en route to our destination. There is no way for me to escape. Care to tell me what the plans are for today?”

  Alex lets out a little giggle and shakes her head back and forth. “Not on your life, chica! You are completely at my mercy today, and I’m kind of enjoying it.”

  I shake my head and huff loudly, playing up my fake irritation with my friend. It means a lot to me that she went to the trouble to plan anything at all. I met Alex while window-shopping at the art galleries in downtown Providence a few years ago. When I walked in front of Reflections Art Gallery, the pieces were simply amazing. I stepped inside for a closer look and was blown away. I had to pick up extra shifts at the hospital to pay for the two paintings I bought that day, but I just knew they belonged with me. I know how that sounds—I’m not some hoity-toity art aficionado, but the paintings have an ethereal quality to them that makes me feel at peace. Both of the paintings were Alex’s creations, and I was lucky enough to meet her at the gallery that day. It was nearing closing time, and I asked Alex to have coffee with me on a whim. We’ve been close friends ever since that day.

  Much like her art, Alex can be almost otherworldly. She has a way of seeming sweet and innocent, but wise beyond her years at the same time. I get the impression that she truly sees people, where most of us see only what people want us to. In other words, you can’t bullshit Alex.

  “So tell me about your folks,” I probe as we make our way out of town. “Are they all zen, like you? They’re pot smoking hippies, aren’t they?”

  Alex chuckles lightheartedly. “No, I don’t think hippie is a word that I would use to describe my parents. Tell you what—I’m gonna keep quiet and let you make up your own mind when you meet them, okay? All I’ll say is they are kind and giving people. Like any parents, they have their faults. But everything they have done for me has come from a place of love, however misguided. No one can ask for more than that, right?”

  “I guess not.” Alex’s comment gets me thinking about my mother. I feel guilty for avoiding her phone call this morning. After sending her to voicemail, I turned off my phone to effectively shut out the rest of the world for the day. I promise myself that I will call her tomorrow. My mom loves Mason so much, and there are times where I feel like she resents being left with me instead of him after the break up. I have no doubt that I will have to console her again when we speak. She’s all I have, and I love her dearly, but I don’t know if I can be strong enough for both of us today.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here.”

  “Huh?” I slowly open my eyes, squinting from the morning sunlight. “Shit, I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to crash on you. I suck as a road trip partner.”

  “No worries. You were sleeping so hard, I hated to wake you.” Alex smiled at me.

  As my eyes adjust to the sunlight, I step out of Alex’s car and slowly survey my surroundings. I’m sitting in the driveway of what looks to be a three-story New Orleans-style home situated in the middle of a beautiful, sprawling golf course. Alex’s Matrix seems very out of place with the silver BMW M5 and the black Land Rover situated in the four-car garage. Okay, there must be some mistake. If Alex was raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, then I’m the Queen-of-fucking-England.

  “Lucy, you’ve got lots of ‘splaining to do …” I say, looking around in awe.

  Alex throws her head back and laughs. “We’ll have that conversation later today, if you don’t mind. Come on, Ricky, I’m sure my mom is peeking out the kitchen window as we speak.”

  “Whatever you say …”

  We make our way up the steps to the front door. The house is old Chicago brick with huge windows adorned in working forest green shutters. Beautiful, lush ferns hang from the wrought iron porch roof, and large clay pots filled with topiaries stand regally on either side of the front doors. A pair of wood-stained rocking chairs sit on the porch with a dainty side table between them.

  I’m feeling very underdressed in my ratty blue jeans, red cable knit sweater, and riding boots, and I have to stop myself from pulling on my sweater in an attempt to improve my appearance. I quickly run my hands through my wavy brown hair, trying to tame the rat’s nest that it’s become thanks to my nap. Alex is wearing a long, flowing navy blue skirt with an off-the-shoulder gray sweater, brown leather belt, and boots. Her long blonde hair falls loosely down her back, except for a small braid in the front that runs behind her ear. She’s not particularly dressed up, but Alex has a unique style that fits almost any occasion.

  As soon as Alex opens the front door, I hear the clicking of heels on the marble floors. “Alexandra, honey, is that you? Come here and let me look at you,” Mrs. Fontaine gushes as she kisses both of Alex’s cheeks and then spreads her arms out wide to inspect her daughter. “You look beautiful, darling. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you taking care of yourself? You know we worry about you all by yourself in Providence …”

  It’s safe to say that Alex and her mother are nothing alike. Like Alex, she has beautiful, crystal blue eyes, but that’s where the similarity ends. Not one hair on Mrs. Fontaine’s platinum blonde head is out of place, and her makeup is expertly done. I’m pretty sure that perfectly made-up face has seen its fair share of botox. She is wearing impeccably ironed black slacks, a pink cashmere sweater, pearls, and four-inch black hee
ls. I instinctively start pulling on my sweater again.

  “I’m fine, Momma, everything’s fine. I’d like you to meet my friend, Sara Preston. I told you she was coming with me today, remember?” Alex replies, seeming slightly stiff.

  “Of course I remember. It’s so nice to meet you, Sara. Alexandra rarely brings visitors home with her. I want you to make yourself comfortable in our home, so please let me know if there is anything that you need …”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Fontaine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

  “Oh please, call me Sue Ellen. Alexandra, why don’t you show Sara to her room and let her drop off her bags. I just brewed some sweet iced tea, so you girls meet me in the kitchen after you’re settled so we can visit.” Sue Ellen suggests, waltzing out of the room without waiting for our agreement.

  As we walk up the stairs to the second floor, I bite my lip to stop myself from asking Alex about her family. Her mother said that she never brings friends home, and I don’t want her to regret bringing me here. She said she would explain later, so I’ll wait until she feels comfortable talking to me about it.

  “This is your room. I’m right next door, and the rooms are joined by a bathroom,” Alex informs me as she escorts me into the bedroom at the top of the stairs.

  The bedroom looks fit for a princess. A large canopy bed with a white duvet is the focal point of the room. The bed is so high and the linens so fluffy, it’ll be like sleeping on a cloud. An antique Oriental rug sits on the shiny pinewood floors, and the walls are painted a delicate pink. There is also an antique dresser and vanity with beautiful (and familiar) art hanging on the walls.

  “Thanks, Alex. I appreciate you letting me come with you this weekend.”

  “Please, you don’t need to thank me.” Alex smiles graciously. “I’m glad I’m able to take your mind off things, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that you are serving as a nice buffer between my parents and me. They are wonderful people, but they can be a little overbearing, if you know what I mean. I’m going to head downstairs. Why don’t you come meet me in the kitchen when you get settled?”

  Alex turns on her heel and shuts the door behind her, leaving me to my own devices. I climb up the side of the bed and fling myself up, rolling around like an excited child. Some things never get old …

  As I make my way down the stairs, I realize I forgot to ask Alex for directions to the kitchen. A bit of wandering may be in order. Luckily, I can hear voices, so I start wandering in that direction. The closer I get, the clearer the voices become.

  “Momma, are you sure I haven’t received any letters from him? It just doesn’t make any sense …”

  “Alexandra, I would tell you if anything had come in the mail. Honey, Dad and I are really starting to worry about you. Don’t you think it’s time that you let this boy go? There are so many more suitable boys—”

  “Please, Momma, stop! I just need to know that he’s okay. I don’t know if he’s still over there, if he’s come home, if he’s … he’s …” I hear a sob escape from Alex, and her despair is palpable. “Can’t Daddy try to find out what’s going on? Surely there’s someone at the club with a connection that could help him.”

  As I listen to my friend plead with her mother, guilt sweeps through me at my eavesdropping. I’m not sure when I should make my presence known, and I fear they would hear me if I tried to scurry away unnoticed. As I listen to Alex sniffling, I want to run to her and console her. Alex is the calming force in my life, and I can’t bear to hear her breaking down. She’s never spoken to me about anyone who she is seeing at home. She dates occasionally in Providence, but she usually keeps it very light and very brief.

  “All right, baby, I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not making any promises. You know how Daddy feels about this. If this is what you need to move on from this, then I’ll try my best. We only want what’s best for you, Alexandra, I hope you know that …”

  “I know, Momma, thank you.”

  I give Alex a little more time to calm down, and then I noisily make my entrance into the room. As I walk farther into the kitchen, Alex turns to look out the window and away from me. In an attempt to give her a few extra moments to gather herself, I turn to Sue Ellen.

  “Sue Ellen, your home is beautiful. Thank you so much for allowing me to visit with Alex—”

  “Of course, darling. I’m so pleased to have you here. Now, come and have a seat and tell me all about yourself. Alex says you’re a nurse … and that you spent all last year traveling around the country? That must have been so exciting!”

  I sit down at the bar and watch Sue Ellen play the perfect hostess, flitting around the kitchen preparing glasses of iced tea and grabbing a platter of cookies. The kitchen is as impeccable as the rest of the house. The room is so spacious; I could probably fit my entire house in this one room.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answer politely, accepting my glass of sweet tea. “After graduating from Northern U, I worked on Providence General’s labor and delivery unit for a couple of years. Then I signed on with a travel nurse agency and took contracts for about a year before returning to Providence General. It was great to travel, see new places, and meet different people. Labor and delivery is my passion, and it’s always exciting no matter where I’m working.”

  “Indeed, my dear. It’s good to love what you do; I’m so glad my Alexandra found something that she loves. And something she does so well.” Sue Ellen smiles lovingly at Alexandra. Although these women are as different as night and day, there is no denying the love and adoration that flows between them.

  “Sara also helps to lead a committee at the hospital that is in charge of adoptions,” Alex adds.

  “Well, I work with the social worker to try and make all adoptions at the hospital go as smoothly as possible for everyone involved. It’s a very emotional time for the birth mother and the adoptive parents, so I help to make a plan ahead of time so things can go effortlessly on the day of the birth,” I explain.

  “How wonderful! I’m sure you have helped countless families. Oh, Alexandra, wouldn’t it have been wonderful if Emmett could have come home this weekend? He and Sara would have so much in common. Emmett, my son, just started his first year as a medical intern last fall, Sara. He’s very charming and very handsome …” Sue Ellen has a mischievous smirk on her face that tells me she’s up to no good.

  “All right, Momma, I don’t think Emmett would appreciate you trying to set him up again.” Alex chuckles good-heartedly. “Don’t you remember what happened last time you tried your hand at matchmaker?”

  “How was I supposed to know that lovely girl was a distant cousin? It was an honest mistake. This is completely different—”

  “Oh, it’s always different! Don’t even act like that was your first mishap. You are a woman of many talents, but marrying off your children is not one of them!” Alex teases.

  I can’t help but wonder if Sue Ellen would find me to be a suitable match for her son if she knew I grew up in a house about a tenth of the size of this one. My mother and I are rich in many ways, but money was always tight in my house growing up. My dad was a police officer who died in the line of duty when I was three years old, and my mother tried to save every penny of his pension for me to go to college. Instead of silver spoons and china, it was paper plates and Tupperware. I’m extremely proud of the way I was raised and the work ethic my mother instilled in me. I’m just not sure Sue Ellen would feel the same way.

  “Momma, I’d like to take Sara on a tour of the grounds, if you don’t mind …”

  “Of course, honey, of course. The golf cart is in the garage with the keys inside,” Sue Ellen offers helpfully. “Why don’t you and Sara be ready for dinner about six o’clock? Daddy would like to take us for dinner at the club. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds great, thank you,” Alex answers after glancing at me for approval.

  Alex and I hop into the golf cart and take off onto the course. “Since I’ve lived in O
akborne Country Club my entire life, I don’t think you’ll find anyone, aside from my father, to give you a more thorough tour.”

  Now, I know jack shit about golf courses, but it must be said that this place looks top notch. The course itself is immaculately groomed, with an Olympic-sized swimming pool and tennis courts near the clubhouse. There are other homes on the golf course, all beautiful and imposing, but none as magnificent as Alex’s family home. The valets in front of the clubhouse stand at attention, ready to serve the wealthy clientele of Oakborne.

  When Alex finishes the “official” tour, she drives our cart to the 18th hole and parks. Right past the putting green is a pond with a beautiful water oak situated right beside it. The tree has sprawling branches dripping with Spanish moss that reach down and touch the ground in several places like nature made benches for us to sit on. I can almost picture a young Alex sitting on the branches—dangling her legs and daydreaming.

  “Take a seat with me?” Alex offers, smiling.

  “Sure thing. What a beautiful spot. I’d love the solitude.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve come here and spent the day more times than I can count. This was my favorite drawing spot as a child. Some of the most memorable times of my life happened under this oak tree. But I can imagine you’d rather me explain a few things than just enjoy the silence, am I right?”

  “Well, now that you mention it …” After taking it all in this afternoon, I’m bursting with curiosity.

  “My family has owned Oakborne Country Club for three generations. It would be accurate to say that I had a … privileged … upbringing. But with privilege comes responsibility; something that my father reminded me of often. My parents had my life planned out for me from the time I was a little girl. I’m going to lay out the condensed version for you, okay?” Alex inhales a deep breath. “Okay, here goes. I was to attend Riverside Preparatory School, where I would, of course, excel. When I wasn’t studying, I was supposed to spend my free time learning “suitable” hobbies, such as piano, painting, and tennis. After graduating at the top of my class from Riverside Prep, I was to be introduced to society as a Cedar Ridge debutante. I would attend Tulane University—go Green Waves—to earn my degree. It doesn’t really matter what type of degree; what did matter was that I find a “suitable” husband. We would be married at St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans, a 300-400 guest affair, followed by a month-long honeymoon traveling through Europe. Upon our return, I would begin my wifely duties. What do wifely duties consist of, you may ask? Well, I would need to sit on the board of several prestigious charities, be the perfect hostess for my husband’s business associates and friends, and most importantly, start having children right away. Are you tired yet? I’m fucking exhausted just thinking about it.”