by Brea Viragh
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I wish you would have told me this before we slept together,” he said slowly.
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean for it to come out so rudely.” Her answer was accompanied by an absent shrug.
“No, don’t. I can’t take you apologizing to me. I’m going to get my coat and go.”
She refused to look at him, keeping her face downturned and away from him. “I think that’s best.”
Another slap. Harlan sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ll come back in the morning when you’re in a better mood.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay to work here?” she said. “I mean—”
“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to tell me that I’m fired. Or that I can’t somehow handle myself. I’m here for Renee, and I guess somewhere along the line I forgot that.”
“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have seduced you. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. Okay, I was, but I didn’t care about them. Then.” She’d made her choice. So why did it hurt so much?
“Olympia...you don’t get to play the guilt game, either. I made my own choices, okay? I made my bed the same way you made yours. I can handle myself,” he assured her. “I’m a big boy.”
This was the best way. She knew it. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I know. But I can’t apologize again, even though I want to. Now, if you don’t mind, I need the number for the lawyer so I can find out what he needs and get the paperwork sent to him immediately.”
“I sent it already,” he replied without emotion.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Fine.”
Then, with nothing else to do, she took off past him, keeping her gaze locked on her feet. It was better than looking up to see the bitter disappointment she already knew was on Harlan’s face. She’d hurt him. And although part of her was convinced it had to be done, another part was screaming in protest. What had she done? Why was she pushing him away when all she wanted to do was draw closer, have those strong arms around her and assure her tomorrow was going to be better. The next day better still.
But she kept walking.
“I’ll be here around nine for Renee.”
“Fine.”
Was that the only word she knew? No, but it was the only one coming easily for her.
Harlan collected his things and left without another word, quietly closing the door behind him. At least he hadn’t slammed it. She would have, if she were in his shoes, and would have enjoyed the way the wood slapped against the latch and reverberated along the walls. Might have even enjoyed knowing it would wake the baby and leave her screaming behind. But Olympia was too old to give in to such immature temptations. It was refreshing to see that despite his being years younger than her, Harlan hadn’t either.
She dragged herself up the stairs with the entire bottle of wine and wondered when she’d turned into such a bitch. Which was a nice way of putting the hardboiled workaholic she’d become. A woman who would rather put her nose to the grindstone and exist wearing blinders than lean on someone. A woman who would rather push people away than acknowledge her own vulnerability.
When she sat on her bed, memories of her nights with Harlan came to mind and she drowned them in a long sip of red wine. Her mind shied away from the topic before landing on one equally painful.
The lawyer had called about Renee. Oh, dear God.
Well, it was too late in the evening to call him now. Olympia would have to give him a ring in the morning to see if everything was indeed right with the case, as Harlan said. She couldn’t afford to lose her niece. Not when she’d fallen in love with the little snot. Their routine was about to change, sure, but at long last they’d become comfortable with each other. Dependent on each other. What would she do if the courts took Renee away?
Which of course brought her full circle to Harlan and had her feeling the urge to bury her face in her pillow and wail. Knowing there was no one around to judge her for it, she decided to do just that.
IN THE MORNING, HARLAN came back but refused to speak or look at her except when necessary. Olympia wasn’t ready yet to admit how much this distressed her. She also wasn’t ready yet to try to fix it with him. First things first, and that meant dealing with the adoption snafu.
She grabbed the folder of paperwork and went to start her car. While it warmed up, she drew in a deep breath and leaned her head against the back of her seat, hands on the chilly steering wheel, and wondered where along the line she’d stopped trusting people. Or why she kept trying to handle things herself instead of letting people in.
Was it when Dan died? Was she still blaming herself for his issues, those deceptive mental anxieties he had kept to himself until the voices in his head were louder than hers and he couldn’t take it anymore? Maybe it was deeper. An older wound. Her parents died young and she’d been forced to depend on herself, rely on herself because there was no one else around to do things for her.
But she’d done the therapy, she thought with a growl, reversing out of the driveway and speeding down the street. She’d talked to shrinks until she’d been put under the microscope long enough to understand and deal with her faults and limitations. Or so she’d thought. Getting involved with Harlan was bringing up all kinds of issues she’d thought she’d resolved, things she’d let go of. Apparently not.
She could spend hours psychoanalyzing herself once more, but it really boiled down to one important issue. She’d hurt Harlan when she hadn’t meant to. And she’d hurt Renee by not being there. And those were on her.
Quitting her job to focus on her home life was the best thing she could do. Because there were dynamics that needed to change.
The next few hours at work went by like she was wading through molasses. The big fundraiser was tomorrow night. It felt like a thousand years away. She would never make it through the day to reach tomorrow.
“Kellie, I need the tables to be set up in the center of the room. The flow has to feel natural so that when people walk around, they can see the displays without having to watch where they’re going. You’re creating a traffic jam with this cluster.” She pointed out the three tables grouped too closely together and blocking off the left side of the exhibit. “Circular, not horseshoe. Think flow.”
Her feet were killing her from wearing her dressy pumps too many days in a row. She resisted the urge to kick off her shoes and give herself an impromptu foot massage.
“Olympia, where do you want—”
The woman’s sentence was cut off when the fire alarm went off. Again. Olympia rubbed the bridge of her nose, pinching until it hurt. “Dammit, I thought we had this fixed. Someone go get maintenance!” The shrill shrieking segued into the ringing of her cell phone. On a muffled roar, she ripped the phone out of her pocket and answered with a snarl in her voice. “What?”
“Sweetheart?”
Mrs. Nunez. “Mama.” Instantly contrite, she strode out of the room, knocking her shin against a chair. She didn’t even care. It was penance. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize it was you. Are you all right?”
“No, no, I’m not,” came the soft sweet voice. “No. I fell in my bathtub. I need your help.”
Mrs. Nunez lived alone, with her children in different states and no close family nearby. Olympia’s heart thumped against her chest. “What do you mean, you fell? Where are you now?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I know you’re working, but I have no one else to call. It’s the middle of the day and everyone is too far away. My kids are in North Carolina, they can’t come. I didn’t call the fire department because I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Are you hurt?” She stuck her pinkie finger in her opposite ear to try to block out the sound of the alarm and better hear the conversation. “Please tell me you’re okay.” Already her mind was moving at light speed, imagining the worst.
“I think I...well, I twisted my ankle a little.” This was said as though it was nothing but a nuisance. “But I’m stuck. Ca
n you come to help me out of the tub?”
Her gut reaction was to tell Mrs. Nunez to call the police and have them come, pride be damned. They were better equipped to handle these kinds of emergencies, after all. Olympia stared around at the chaos at work, the swirling tornado of activity, with the fire alarm still blaring overhead. Was it true what Harlan said? About her needing to save everyone? About her need for control?
Control was a good thing if it meant outside forces couldn’t hurt you. But sometimes...too much control ended up hurting you anyway.
“Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll be right over. Hold on,” she told Mrs. Nunez. “Don’t move and don’t do anything until I get there.”
With what should have been a sense of guilt but was actually a sense of relief, she stepped out of and away from the chaos.
Heedless of the speed limit, she made it home in record time. Mrs. Nunez hid the spare key to her front door underneath a fake rock that looked...well, fake. It was one of those jumbo ones advertised on the back pages of magazines and was nothing but a flashing red light to anyone who wanted to break in and rob the place. Olympia hurried to the front door and fished the key out from its not-so-much-hiding space, twisting it in the lock. “Mama?” she called out the second she stepped through the door.
“Upstairs,” came the weak reply.
Olympia took the stairs two at a time, turning left down the hallway, into the master suite. “Are you decent?”
The older woman chuckled as Olympia made her way into the bathroom. “Not really. I ripped down the towel rack and shower curtain trying to get out by myself, but nothing really worked.”
Indeed, she was lying in the tub with the shower curtain draped across her body like an old-fashioned toga. Her gray-streaked black hair was piled in a messy bunch of braids on her head, her olive skin pulled in wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. Even injured, she was a picture of mature Latina spice, her lips pursed and her eyes squinting to see without her glasses.
A wave of guilt and worry smacked Olympia in the face at the same time her heart gave a hitch. To cover her anxiety, she propped her hands on her hips and gave Mrs. Nunez a stern look. “How did this happen? Didn’t I tell you we needed to get some grab bars installed? Maybe you’ll listen to me now. How long have you been like this? Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?”
“And have them see me like this?” Her head shook like she had a song stuck in there. Rose Nunez was much too proud. Despite the circumstances, she pursed her lips even further. “No. I won’t allow it.”
“Well, luckily I got your call. Let’s get you out of there. You’re sure it’s just your ankle?”
“Absolutely.” Rose was adamant.
Olympia took the utmost care trying to get her adopted mother out of the tub, making sure to lock her elbows so she didn’t lose her grip. She didn’t want to admit it was almost too much for her, that she had a difficult time handling the extra weight. Her knees shook and her arms almost gave out, but she held steady.
It would be nice if Harlan were here. He’d know what to do.
She stopped so abruptly she almost sent both of them tumbling into the tub. It was too late to start relying on someone else now. Not when she was closing in on forty years old. Not when she had another life to think about. Didn’t she have to be careful?
Plus, she’d made her decision. She’d told Harlan where she stood, and gotten the hard part out of the way. There was no going back. She couldn’t go back.
“Steady now,” she soothed, helping Rose over the lip of the tub. “Don’t bang your ankle.”
“A lot of things have been banged in my life, chiquita. Not all of them relating to the body. I always tried to take the good with the bad, but there comes a time when you have to be careful.” Rose winced, lifting her knee and putting the brunt of her weight on Olympia. “I must be getting too old to even bathe by myself. I need to look into one of those walk-in baths.”
“You’re not quite there yet, so don’t say that.” But each step increased Olympia’s concern. With Rose finally on the bed and wrapped in a blanket to stop the shaking, Olympia went to grab a robe from the closet. The bedroom window overlooked her own driveway. She saw Harlan’s car parked there, and next to it a strange Lincoln she didn’t recognize. “Who the hell...”
She settled Rose with a pillow under her ankle and a vow to be back in a moment, then sprinted down the stairs.
There was nothing overtly menacing about the car, although something in her stomach twisted at the sight of it. Her heart was in her throat when she made it out the front door and across the lawn.
“Harlan? What’s going on?” she called out, stepping through her own front door.
“Olympia?” came a familiar baritone.
“Harlan?”
His head popped around the corner from the living room, and soon his arms were on either side of the doorframe, barring the way. Whether to keep her out or someone else in, she didn’t know. His face was pale, eyes darting around her face before landing to meet hers. “The people from social services are here.”
“No, that’s impossible,” she cried out. She strained to look around him, to see what was going on. Then she heard a whimper.
Harlan finally moved out of the way and Olympia saw a tall, stately woman with chocolate-colored skin holding her baby.
“What’s happening here?” She did her best not to lash out in anger. In terror. Renee was crying but otherwise looked fine. Why hadn’t she been called? “Who are you?”
“Ma’am, please. My name is Anita Marshall, and I’ve been authorized to take Miss Salant into child protective services.”
Olympia forgot about the chills racing through her. About the coat she’d taken off and forgotten next door, about the water stains on her skirt and blouse. “You’re taking her? No, you can’t do that.” Her eyes fell on Harlan again, begging him to do something. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this? We only got the call yesterday.”
Was it only yesterday?
“Here’s a copy of the papers, Mrs. Trumbald, filed improperly by your lawyer.” Ms. Marshal held out a manila-colored folder. “We apologize for the short notice, but the judge was going out of town and wanted the matter settled immediately.” She shifted Renee on her hip, and Olympia’s heart broke when the little girl reached out her arms to be taken. “You have twenty-four hours to appeal. As of right now, you are no longer the child’s legal guardian and the court feels it is better to place her under CPS custody.”
Olympia strode forward and tried to take Renee from Ms. Marshall, only then noticing a second CPS person sitting on the couch. The man stood to block her progress toward the baby with a less-than-friendly professional smile.
“You’re taking her away from her home, after losing both her parents, because something wasn’t filed properly? You have to be kidding!” She glared at the man, with his balding cue-ball head and fake smile. What was there to smile about? “Give me my baby.”
“Ma’am, please. We already talked to your babysitter.”
Olympia turned her glare toward Harlan, only then realizing the defeated set of his shoulders. The drying streaks running from his eyes to his cheeks.
“This can’t be happening. Give her to me!”
“Oly!” Renee cried out, her arms extended and her little hands clutching air.
Baldy shook his head and his smile remained firm. “Please try to stay calm. I suggest you contact your lawyer.”
The brunt of her ire fell on Harlan. “I thought you said you sent in the paperwork?”
“I did! I faxed it.” They turned in unison when both man and woman from CPS gathered their things and made for the door. “Renee!”
“You can’t take her,” Olympia insisted. Baldy blocked her and Harlan while his coworker strode past them, Renee in her arms, toward the front door.
“We’ll be in touch. I assure you, Mrs. Trumbald, she’s in good hands. She’ll be fine,” Ms. Marshall assured her.
“Oly, please!” H
er last word ended in a tear-filled screech, breaking Olympia’s heart to hear it.
Olympia pushed against Harlan, pushed against the stranger holding her back, struggling to get them both out of the way. “Give her back to me. Give her back!” She grabbed Harlan’s arm in a claw-like grip. “Oh my God, Harlan, where are they taking her?”
“Ma’am, please step back. I don’t want to have to call the authorities,” Baldy threatened. “If you will not maintain proper distance then I will be forced to make the call.”
Olympia stepped away, holding her hands up to her shoulders, palms out. “I’m going to fix this, sweet pea,” she called out.
Once the woman was out the door with Renee, the man let them pass, both Olympia and Harlan running toward the car.
“Oly, no. No!” Tears ran down the girl’s cheeks. She continued to reach for Olympia as the social worker carried her toward the Lincoln. “Oly!”
“I’m going to fix this. I’ll get you back. I promise!” She watched the woman buckle Renee into a car seat and then the slamming doors cut off the sounds of her cries. The car reversed out of the driveway and she followed its movement down the street and out of sight before turning to Harlan. She couldn’t help herself when she reached out to slap at him. “How could you let this happen?” she screamed.
He caught her arms in his hands to stop her from pounding on his chest. “I’m sorry! I tried to take care of it but...but you heard what the social worker said. She said it was Bower who didn’t file the correct paperwork. We have twenty-four hours to try to get her back.” He gazed pleadingly at her. “Don’t you think I’m just as upset as you are? We’ll get her back.”
“There is no we. There never was.” Olympia jerked her arms out of his grip and swiped furiously at her eyes. “Get out of here, Harlan. I can’t look at you.”
“You don’t understand—”
She turned to him with fire churning inside of her. “Get out of here! I’ll handle this myself. Like I always do. You’ve done nothing but make a mess.”
